Harry Potter and the Knightly Order
by AbaddontheDevourer
Summary: Harry Potter, abandoned by his parents, and abused by the Dursleys, is rescued by an ancient order of Knights. Trained in their ways, he will lead their forces into Britain and begin a new Inquisition. Abandoned!Harry. Super!Harry. James and Lily alive. Manipulative!Dumbles. Possible Bashing. Elements of Fate/Stay Night. Currently: Pre-Hogwarts. Rated T for now.
1. Prologue

Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing except for any Original Characters that I create. All rights to this go to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and movie directors. This chapter was heavily inspired by LoveMyRomance's Dark Prince fanfiction, which I highly recommend. The rest of the ideas that follow are inspired by Robst's Harry Crow, Dragon Age, Fate/Stay Night and any plot bunnies roaming in my head. Most importantly a question: "What is the response of the Queen to the actions of the Ministry?"

Prologue

1980, a year that would forever live in infamy. On a night unlike any other, in a storm that would become legend a woman lay in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Her piercing cries drowned out by the sound of thunder, as gales swirled around the building toppling anything that wasn't fastened down. It was on this historic night that Lily Potter gave birth to a beautiful set of twins. Their eldest was a son who lay silent in her arms watching the world through piercing green eyes that reminded her of the Killing Curse, to him she bestowed the name Harry James Potter. The younger was a beautiful daughter, her cries rivaled his mother's moments before, as the parents turned their attention to her warm chocolate brown eyes. They named her Victoria Serenity Potter. Hoping that she would live to see her namesake fulfilled. The two parents were overjoyed at the birth of their children, as cameras flashed around them. The people rejoiced for the miracle birth as they became a beacon of hope in the midst of a bleak war.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Leader of the Light, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was currently in a dilemma. In one hand he was nursing a tumbler of firewhiskey while the other was placed under his chin, holding his head up as he leaned his elbow against the top of his desk. Arrayed before him were three photos, babies barely a month old, belonging to two of the Light faction's strongest supporters, the Longbottoms and the Potters. The prophecy had been clear; the one who would bring the downfall of the Dark Lord would be born as the seventh month ended to those who have defied him three times. Even in his certainty that the prophecy referred to the month of July, in the back of his mind there was a nagging sense of doubt. He was sure that it was meant to be July, though some others would argue other months depending on the calendar used. Having heard the prophecy directly it was his belief that it was meant for him to have heard and as such used the modern calendar that he followed. Some would say that it was his arrogance in believing the prophecy was for him and not randomly delivered by a drunken seer that reinforced this belief, while others would think he did it because he thought he was right. Nevertheless with his mind clear the three candidates of his interpretation for the prophecy were laid before him.

When he had first heard the prophecy he didn't imagine that there would be more than one child that fulfilled the requirement, and only now was he realizing that Fate wouldn't let him win so easily. Sighing he turned away from the innocents on his desk to his Potions Master/Spy. "What do you think Severus?"

The man snorted at the question, his eyes flickering to the pictures of Harry and Victoria. "Protect these two at all costs Albus, or you'll soon find yourself at the Voldemort's wand. Remember our deal."

"And if neither are the prophesized child?" He asked his eyes twinkling in amusement. Severus was nothing if not persistent in his protection of Lily.

"I want this war to end faster than you do Albus, but I will not allow a single hair to be harmed on Lily's head."

"Yet, you told the Dark Lord part of the prophecy."

Guilt flashed in his eyes, but was quickly banished. "A moment of weakness that I will regret for the rest of my life."

At that moment the door to the Headmaster's office was slammed open, as a distraught Lily Potter entered the room cradling her twins, followed by her husband his clothes singed in areas as smoke rose from his back, he too carried a child in his arms. "Lily!" Severus exclaimed jumping to his feet, in his haste knocking over his chair.

He quickly stopped, finding a wand pressed against his throat by James, a crazed look in his eye as his wand glowed with barely contained power. "Back off Death Eater."

"James!" Lily sobbed, clutching her children tightly. Her words snapped him back to reality as he retreated a step and lowered his wand, and after taking several calming breaths conjured a chair for his wife to sit on. Doing the same for himself, he took one look at the firewhiskey on the desk, and with a flick of his wand summoned it with his other hand. Laying the baby across the desk, he took the fiery liquid and brought it up to his lips. After several gulps he found it forcibly taken as his wife took a few dainty sips before placing it back on the desk.

As soon as his favorite students had barged into the room they had his full attention. They were both a mess, suffering minor wounds, and exhaustion. "Lily, James, can you tell us what happened?"

James turned to look him in the eye, a haunted look that he instantly recognized. It was a look that he had seen many soldiers have after witnessing the death of a friend. "Death Eaters."

He spat the name with as much venom as he could muster at the moment, as his wife broke down, crying. "We were with Frank and Alice, when they came. There must've been two dozen or so. They tore the wards down like tissue paper, we barely had enough time to shove Lily and Alice into a safe room, before they stormed through the front door. Frank and I tried to hold them off as Lily created portkeys. She tried to give Alice the first one after she made them all, only Alice took the other three from her, thrust Neville into her arms, and activated the remaining one, sending her off before she could protest. By this time Frank and I were just outside the safe room, the Death Eaters had driven us back through the length of the house, as we spent all our energy conjuring whatever we could to block the killing curses. Alice joined us, and for a moment I thought we could hold, could push the back, then he came. THE DARK LORD HIMSELF!" James screamed hysterically, manically. "Alice was the first to fall. Bellatrix got her with a stunner, and then Frank fell to Voldemort himself. Just as he was falling he handed me his portkey, and activated it."

He paused, taking another swig from the potent liquor, his eyes wet with tears. "That was several hours ago. After I rendezvoused with Lily at one of our safe houses, I made sure she was safe for the moment, and returned to the Longbottom's house with a full Auror Squad. The house was in flames, I rushed in and dragged Alice out, as another one of my men got Frank. Even though we got them out the damage was done. They were brought to St. Mungo's, and their status is currently unknown."

"That makes no much sense! Spit it out Potter, what happened?" Severus said growing tired of James dragging the story out.

"Fine!" He spat, taking another sip. "LONG TERM EXPOSURE TO THE CRUCIATUS CURSE! THEY WERE BLOODY TORTURED YOU GREASY BASTARD!" As his anger gripped him, and started yelling the trio of boys began wailing, and Lily stifled her own sobs to tend to the children. He calmed down hearing the bawling of his children. "They're alive, but their minds are fragile. The healers have them sedated at the moment, but it seems like they were driven to insanity."

The trademark twinkle in his eye was replaced by sadness, as he thought how this could've possible happened. It wasn't a decade ago that this nightmare had yet to exist, and only a handful more than that, when young Tom Riddle was his student. How could he have let this happen? The signs were all their yet he choose to ignore them.

Now his path was clear. He had a duty to protect those that had put their trust in him, and to help those he called friends.

"Lily, James, in light of what just happened I must insist that we hide your family somewhere safe. I'll cast the fidelius charm over the location of a safe house, I need you to choose a secret keeper."

The ancient wizard got up from behind his desk and threw some floo powder into the fireplace. "Sirius Black." In a few moments the man appeared looking like he hadn't slept in days. "Peter Pettigrew."

After the three Marauders exchanged pleasantries and the situation was explained to them, Dumbledore said, "Choose quickly, we have no time to waste."

Nodding, "Peter, will you be our secret keeper?"

Sirius looked outraged, and was about to protest when Lily held up a hand to stop him. "No, it can't be you Sirius. You'd be the obvious choice and we'll need you to divert attention away from Peter. I hope you can understand, this is for the best. You've been our friend for the longest time, and I need you to trust me."

It took a full minute for Sirius to process the information before, he stepped back with a bow, his trademark smile on his face. Though he was slightly embarrassed at his actions, he could understand where Lily was coming from, and decided to trust her once again.

The men in the room, Albus and Severus silently applauded at the cleverness of the idea. Have Sirius run interference as they hid Peter. Little did they know that a horrible mistake had been made.

Time passed and the Potters remained safe under the protections of the fidelius charm. Little Neville was given to his Grandmother, who they believed to be safer than the alternative. Frank and Alice took up residence in the Permanent Spell Damage Ward of St. Mungo's for the foreseeable future. It was the fourth birthday of their children, and Lily was bustling around the house getting ready for the celebration. Victoria was wailing in the living room, driving the house elf insane, as she released countless bouts of accidental magic.

"MOMMY!" The little girl wailed banging her fists against the carpet, as items orbited her.

Martha, their house elf was trying her best to calm the young mistress down, as she stopped some of the more dangerous and expensive objects from being destroyed. Lily walked in and seeing the destruction, bravely strode forward and picked her daughter up. At the touch of her mother Victoria calmed down, and her magic was reined in. The objects that had been suspended in the air moments before crashed to the floor, several priceless vases shattering on impact.

She sighed at the damage, before waving her wand, fixing the entire room, as Victoria giggled in amusement. After everything was fixed she smiled at her daughter's antics, remembering the first time she had unleashed her powers. She hadn't even been six months old when she had levitated all of the toys in her room into the crib, and animated one of her plushies. Putting her daughter down she held on to one of her chubby hands as she led her to find her brother.

Victoria she imagined would be tall like she was, and hopefully she would inherit her figure. Her brunette hair and warm chocolate eyes would one day drive many a wizard crazy, a fact that she knew her husband was secretly sweating over. He was already practicing the threatening speech he would use to intimidate the first boy she brought home. A mother could only hope for the best. She had shown signs of powerful accidental magic before she could even walk, and she was the first to walk of her children. As soon as she learned to speak rare was the minute when she would say nothing.

Unlike Victoria who spent her time bawling and whining young Harry was an enigma. He rarely spoke and never complained; his piercing green eyes unnerved all but the most strong willed. She wasn't sure where he got his looks, but James was certain that he had taken after his Black ancestors with his refined face. His hair was the same shade as onyx, with a dull luster, unlike Severus' greasy hair. Though he learned how to walk after his sister, it was he who mastered it first. Moving fast enough to catch up to his father's longer strides and leaving his sister in his wake. At the age of four he still had yet to show signs of any magical prowess, and his only real passion seemed to be looking at books, as she doubted he'd be able to read what he saw. She had caught him more than once with her husband's books on advanced transfigurations, the book placed reverently on the floor, his eyes alight with hunger.

She walked into the library Victoria in hand, and saw Harry perched atop the ladder a book balanced on his knees as he read quietly, unaware of his precarious position. "Harry!" She screamed seeing her son so high up.

He looked up from his book lazily before fixing her with his emerald gaze and for a moment fear welled up in her heart as they reminded her of the fatal curse that had too often been thrown her way. She turned away flinching, as her son stared at her for another moment before putting the book back in its place and climbing down the ladder. He walked over to her, no not walked; he strode towards her, his chin held high, a look of defiance and superiority in his eyes. As she stared at her son, avoiding his gaze, she lost track of Victoria, who had taken advantage of her mother's inattention and climbed to the top of the armrest of her father's wingback chair.

She only realized her daughter's peril, when Harry lifted a hand and lazily pointed to her. In a split second as her head turned, a spell was already being woven, and as Victoria jumped from the top of the armrest a pile of pillows was conjured underneath her. She giggled as he hit the pillows, before sobering up as she saw her mother's anger. As she began to question her with a falsely sweet tone, about her actions, it quickly turned into a minor scolding as she refused to admit her mistake. Neither saw look of apathy that passed Harry's face, nor the shaking of his head.

Leaving the study he went down to the kitchen and waited. It was minutes later when the back door opened and his father entered accompanied by Dumbledore. "Harry!" James said seeing his son on top of the kitchen counter running his hand along the handles of the knives stored in the butcher's block. He turned away from the blades, staring past his father and at the headmaster.

As the two stared into each other's eyes he felt something poking at his mind, and immediately launched himself at the old man, arms spread wide. "Woah there!" James said scooping his son into a hug, unaware of his true objective. "How have you been today?"

He didn't have a chance to answer, or not answer in his case, as Lily came running into the room, her hair a mess. "Lily what happened?" James asked.

"Victoria…she had another bout of powerful accidental magic."

"Interesting." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling at his former student's disheveled appearance. "Perhaps things are finally becoming clear."

"What do you mean Albus?" James asked, putting Harry down.

"Come we need to speak of things best kept private." He led his former students into the sun room and closed the door behind him. Harry wouldn't be denied though as he put an ear against the door, and quieted his breathing. The old man had been foolish in not casting silencing wards to prevent eavesdroppers.

"I believe that young Victoria is child of the prophecy." He began.

He heard a gasp from his mother, followed by a sob, as she realized the fate that her daughter was being burdened with. "Are you sure Albus?" She asked.

"Prophecy is at the best times vague, but in this case I believe my interpretation to be accurate. Victoria will most one day grow into a powerful witch if her bouts of accidental magic are anything to go by."

"And Harry?" Lily whispered.

"I fear that even the weakest of wizards have had a bout of accidental magic by this time. The fact that your son has had none, forces us to entertain the notion that he may in fact be a squib."

"No," Lily wailed, the dreams of teaching her children everything she knew suddenly crushed.

"At this point I must go with assumption that he is in fact without magic, and act accordingly." Dumbledore said sadly. "It's not uncommon when twins are born for one to be very strong in their magic, and the other having weak or almost nonexistent powers."

"But what about the other line in the prophecy? The Dark Lord hasn't marked her as his equal." James pointed out.

"I honestly don't know." The old man replied. "But we can only move on the information that we have. Therefore I recommend that beginning tomorrow we take Victoria under our wings and begin teaching her everything that she'll need to know to defeat the Dark Lord." The room was silent, and Harry took this as his cue to escape, as he made his way to the couch. He saw his sister crying once more, her favorite plushie, a griffin, had its head torn from its body, stuffing scattered around the room. He stared at the once noble figure, focusing on it and ignoring his sister's cries. When his attention was entirely on the toy being restored, and that was all that he could picture in his mind, the stuffing slowly made its way back into the animal. Victoria seeing her favorite plushie being restored, stopped her bawling and tackled/hugged her brother.

His parents walked in just as the head of the animal was being reattached, and James was a blur rushing to his daughter's side. "Amazing!" He exclaimed lifting Victoria into the air and swinging her around, a joyous look on his face. "Look Lily, the toys perfect once more. Harry, come closer, be the first to congratulate your sister for she is the Chosen One who will defeat the Dark Lord."

His face was apathetic, but on the inside he seethed as his parents continually praised his sister for something that he had done. His eyes turned to Dumbledore who caught him, before the man smiled with that hateful twinkle in his eyes. "Yes my boy, your sister is going to be a great and powerful witch."

"Lily, the party tonight, let's shift the focus from Victoria's birthday and focus on her debut as the Chosen One."

She smiled at her husband's antics before nodding. The anger that he felt towards his sister doubled. They had completely ignored that it was his birthday as well, and didn't ask his opinion on anything.

"I'll leave you now. Victoria enjoy your party." Dumbledore said moving towards the fireplace. He quickly found the exit blocked by Lily.

"Please Albus, stay for the party, in fact I insist that you be the one to inform the entire world that the end of this war is near."

The Headmaster smiled at his former student, his eyes gleaming in happiness. "I would be honored."

"Then it's settled!" James exclaimed. "Lily why don't you begin to get change, and I'll take care of Victoria. Albus I'm sure I don't need to tell you where to find the ballroom. Please make your way there and we'll join you shortly."

James had hurried his daughter to her room, helping her dress, and making sure that her clothes were perfect. Couldn't exactly have the Chosen One looking like a slob now could they. While his attention was entirely focused on his princess, Harry was left on his own a fact that he was quickly coming to term with as being the norm. In his anger he made his way back to the library, and dragged one of his father's books on conjuration over to his favorite spot. He riffled through the pages of the heavy tome, taking in the most important part of the information, the wand movement and incantations. Of course the point was moot since he didn't have a wand to use. He came across a section that focused on the conjuration of inanimate objects and was delighted to find that there was no incantation or wand movements listed. From what he could understand of the theory behind it, the spell was fueled by the caster's desire and willpower. They had to imagine the object in minute detail, which meant having an affinity with what was being conjured, as well as the power to force its creation from nothing. There were drawbacks as the objects could be summoned but not assume all the properties of what was attempted. A teapot could be conjured but would shatter with a single touch as not all the properties of the material were conjured. There was a reason why there were so few who mastered conjuration, and a reason why they were respected. He needed an example to base his first construct on, and saw the sheathed swords hanging above the fireplace's mantle. Dragging a chair over he climbed atop the mantle and removed one of the blades. Sitting there he carefully scrutinized the weapon, disassembling and reassembling it repeatedly, turning each part over in his hands and between his fingers. he was entranced by the simple elegance of the masterwork weapon and in the back of his mind something clicked and the familiarity with the weapon was similar to the one described in the book on conjuration.

No doubt he would've studied the book all night, content to ignore the farce that his birthday party had become, except his father found him. "Oh good you're here." He said scooping him into his arms.

"It's a good thing that I found you before your mother yelled me ear off. I was originally planning on having Victoria come out first as she's the guest of honor, so I'm glad that you're late, in a way it all worked out." His father grinned. Carrying Harry to his room, he said, "Get dressed, and when you're done come down to the ballroom. Use the back stairs, no need to draw attention to yourself. After all it's your sister's big night."

Cursing his sister and his luck once more he changed into his dress clothes. Before the big announcement the twins were supposed to be dressed in matching robes, but now his clothes had been changed to a disgusting mauve color, reminiscent to what Dumbledore would wear. Further evidence that his parents wanted his sister to stand out tonight. Cursing the robe, he abandoned it, in favor of pants and a dress shirt, he didn't care if he was the only one dressed differently. After donning his clothes he went to the ballroom, using the back stairs like he had been instructed. What had once been planned as a small gathering of friends and family to celebrate their twin birthdays, quickly turned into a massive function as the press and high ranking Ministry officials got wind of a major announcement.

He arrived just in time to see his sister on stage, shaking the hand of the Minister of Magic. "Now a round of applause for Victoria Potter! The Chosen One who will defeat the Dark Lord, the Saviour of the Wizarding World!" With a flourish of his hand, Dumbledore released a massive banner that congratulated the savior. "Now let us wish her a happy birthday."

Moving his hand like a conductor he began and was quickly followed be everyone else in attendance sans Harry:

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR VICTORIA!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_

As the song concluded a massive bang echoed throughout the hall, as raw magic strong and dense enough to be seen with the naked eye flooded the hall. "THE WARDS!" Lily screamed, her voice heard above the chaos.

Suddenly the great doors to the ball room were thrown open as a handsome man strode in, a look of arrogance and superiority dominating his face. He was backed by dozens of black cloaked figures in masks.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR VICTORIA! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" A woman cackled from underneath her mask.

"Silence Bellatrix." The Dark Lord commanded, the mad woman's cackles instantly stopped. "That's no way to treat the birthday girl."

The Dark Lord moved towards Victoria, slowly, daring anyone to oppose him. Every Death Eater had their wand trained on someone, as the forces of Light held back fearing to catch innocents in the crossfire. The Dark Lord stopped a mere foot away from the Savior of the Wizarding World, and sneered at the sight before him. The girl had already soiled herself, her fear palpable at the tip of his tongue. He reached out and ran the back of his right hand against the girl's right cheek. Enjoying how she flinched and tried to run away but was frozen in fear.

"Pathetic." The man said. This was no challenge. "Is this what our world has come to? Dumbledore have you fallen so far as to put all the hopes and dreams on the shoulders of a 4 year old child?"

The Dark Lord stepped back from the girl, his face still twisted in a sneer. Something caught his attention, before he moved to strike the child. More instinctual that anything he found himself turning to look her twin in the eyes. Harry stared defiantly into the Dark Lord's eyes and feeling a slight probe from the Dark Lord loosened his occlumency barriers which functioned to not only categorize his memories but also to suppress his powers. The only response from the Dark Lord was a slight widening of his eyes before he shifted attention back to Victoria, raising his wand.

"NO!" Lily cried drawing her wand and sending a curse towards the Dark Lord. The hall erupted into chaos as the Death Eaters let loose a torrent of dark curses, and the forces of Light conjured shields as quickly as possible to protect the innocent bystanders who ran towards the exits. In the confusion Lily was busy dueling Bellatrix Lestrange who removed her mask, and James was busy dealing with her husband Rodolphus, at the same time Dumbledore was dueling the Dark Lord himself, as the two hurled curses and conjured shields, their focus entirely on the battle and not on the crowd that surrounded them. He saw his sister collapsed on her knees, wailing on top of the stage for all to see, though none did as they were fleeing for their lives.

He made his way to his sister, just in time to see Dumbledore thrown into the back wall from the sheer force of the Dark Lord's spell. The Headmaster stuck fast as the Dark Lord gloated. "Stay there old man, and watch as I destroy the only hope you had." The Dark Lord turned his attention towards the twins, his wand raised. Lily was right behind him, and was rushing to her daughter's aid, Victoria her arm reaching out, crying as she called for her mother, and then there was Harry, apathetic as always, yet on the inside he burned with a cold fury. He had done magic before, but he had always cleaned up after himself so that his parents wouldn't know.

This time was different, he could feel the power calling for release, as his mind snapped to the passages he had read earlier in the day about conjuring.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

With the item firmly lodged in his mind he screamed in defiance, a sword materializing and shooting forward cutting through the fatal curse and piercing the Dark Lord's heart. The curse which had been split in two struck both children at the same time, and he could hear Victoria screaming in agony. To him the pain was made bearable only by the fact that he was going to the kill the bastard that had done this. With the last of his strength a dozen more blades materialized and sunk themselves to the crossguard into the Dark Lord's body. As the last blade pierced his body, he let loose an inhuman scream before collapsing, his body fading to nothingness as the steel swords clattered to the floor. A dark spirit rose in place of the Dark Lord and fled from the manor house, the remaining Death Eaters, who saw their Master fall apparated away, leaving the forces of Light to deal with the wounded and dead.

Barely conscious he dragged himself to his sister's side and saw a scar forming on her forehead, in the shape of crescent moon. There was the sound of someone tumbling to the floor as Dumbledore was released from the sticking charm that held him to the wall. The man moved quickly to Victoria's side and after waving his wand a few times sighed in relief. The girl would live. He reenervated the Savior, and helped her to stand. James was at his daughter's side in an instant and once he caught sight of the scar, lifted her in triumph. "HAIL VICTORIA POTTER, SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! SHE STRUCK DOWN THE DARK LORD!"

"We must move quickly." Dumbledore said to his remaining followers. "Victoria has weakened the Dark Lord greatly, and in turn has been marked his equal!" He pointed to the scar, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

"THERE IS NO DOUBT NOW! VICTORIA IS THE ONE FATED TO END THIS WAR ONCE AND FOR ALL!" Lily screamed above the crowds.

Anger seized him! How dare his sister gain the credit! She was nothing more than a sniveling wreck when the Dark Lord turned his wand towards her. A dagger materialized without his command and flew towards his sister. It was only a slight shift in the movement of his father that saved her life. The dagger grazed his sister's cheek, as he looked on in astonishment, never before had he had an accidental burst of magic that took definite shape. The crowds quickly turned to find the source of the attack, and unfortunately one Death Eater was still conscious and groaning, drawing attention to himself. At least a dozen stunners hit the man, as he slumped forward. Everyone turned towards their savior and saw her on the ground her cheek bleeding. Dumbledore was quick with his healing spells, as everyone waited with bated breath, yet the wound wasn't closing.

The Headmaster furrowed his brow, weaving the strongest healing spells he knew, ignoring the drain, but the wound refused to close. Turning his attention to the weapon that caused the wound he summoned it to his hand and began inspecting it, quickly finding the reason why his magic wasn't working. "This dagger is ensorcelled. It's covered in runes that prevent healing spells from closing the wounds. We're lucky Victoria was just grazed, if she had actually stabbed by this I fear, we wouldn't be able to do anything besides ease her passing." With another flourish of his wand he conjured a thick handkerchief and held it to the girl's face. "As it stands the blade slows down the body's natural healing, but doesn't stop it. There's nothing more we could do than put pressure to help it stop bleeding."

Lily took her injured daughter and smothered her in her bosom. James caught the eye of his mentor, who nodded sadly. He turned to Harry, and aimed his wand. With a flick of his wrist a red bolt shot forth striking him in the chest, and darkness claimed him.

When he awoke he was in the family car. He saw his mother sitting in the front passenger seat, as his father drove. She was crying, her tears being dabbed at with a handkerchief that was already soaked. He couldn't recognize where they were, a suburban area, with identical houses and perfectly manicured lawns. It was a ghastly sight that sent chills down his spine. The car stopped in front of a house like so many others, the number 4 posted on the side. Number 4 Privet Drive. His parents got out of the car, his father going to the rear and opening the trunk, while his mother opened the door closest to him. He moved slowly, exiting the car, his eyes darting around taking in the neighborhood. His father handed him a duffle bag, before he took a step back. Stifling the anger that threatened to burst forth, he opened the bag, and saw all of his possessions thrown in.

"This is going to be your home now." James said, attempting to smile. "Your sister needs us now. She's the Chosen One and her magic needs our guidance."

"My sister lives here, she'll make sure that you're taken care of." Lily said nudging him forward. "When this war is over we'll come back for you." She said. He knew she was lying, they were abandoning him. He turned his back on them, striding towards the door of his new home. He remained silent, refusing to show any emotion to those who betrayed him.

A month passed, a month of torture. From morning to night, countless menial tasks, and beatings. His life underwent a drastic change, as he attempted to settle into the role lower than a slave. His whale of an uncle took a perverse pleasure in trying to force him to scream, he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of success. He was kicked repeatedly, his ribs fractured and cracked, never having the chance to fully heal. In addition he was currently nursing a broken arm, and was barely able to see out his left eye, where his uncle had hit him with one of his meaty fists.

Every day he was subjected to various forms of humiliation, stuffed into a cupboard barely big enough to for him to fit even with his legs folded underneath him. He quickly got used to sitting in seiza, attempting to calm himself every free moment he had. He sorted through him mind, suppressing memories of those who betrayed him and forced him to live in this hovel. He didn't even have any of his original possessions, his aunt had taken them the same night that he had arrived, and promptly threw it in the fireplace with kindling. Minutes later all his worldly possessions were turned to ash. He wasn't allowed outside, his existence hidden from, the neighbors. As he suppressed the memories he focused on his magic and imagination, never again would he have a bout of accidental magic. Time and time again a blade appeared in his hand. At first they were too brittle; he snapped them between his fingers, but as each day passed, the weapons got stronger and stronger, until it just felt right. As soon as he got the correct material and intrinsic properties, he began working on conjuring faster and faster. Two weeks after he began his training he was able to conjure a simple dagger with a flick of his wrist. Once he was able to conjure it and hold it for several minutes at a time, he began to work on its design. Simple iron turned to steel, turned to small gems placed in the pommel, turned into folded steel with patterns running the length of the blade. He smiled wickedly at the idea of plunging it into his whale of an uncle's neck.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In another part of the country, in the capital city of London, a meeting of powerful people was taking place. Men and women dressed smartly in black pants or skirts, white button down shirts and black blazers, were seated around a black granite round table. If one simply glanced at the figures and their stern expressions they would believe it was a meeting of a board of directors or powerful people, in a way they would be right. It was a meeting of those who had directed the path the country took for hundreds of years. Each figure sat on a solid wood high back chair reminiscent of a throne, and each chair had been hand carved from a single ancient tree. Where their head would rest a crest had been engraved, 27 different crests for the 27 different participants. Slung across the back of each chair was a sword, some were simple in design, others extravagant and others absurdly gaudy, yet all were functional and deadly. In addition to their decorative dissimilarities several were of a different type that the other. There were longswords, sabers, rapiers, and even claymores. One thing was similar though, each person had a shorter blade that could easily be drawn sheathed at their waist.

"So what has the Inquisitoria found?" An elderly man asked. By far he was the oldest member that sat at the table, and though he may have looked frail none dared to suggest that he was weak. What he had lost in his body he had more than made up for in rapier wit and lightning fast swordsmanship. His wrinkled face invoked images of grandparents and loving mentors, as he leaned back on his throne his gnarled hands curled around the top of a cane. Amazingly he still had a full head of white hair like a lion's mane, that several members joked as being too perfect to be natural.

A chair slid back as a woman stood at attention. Beautiful by any man's standards, she had piercing blue eyes colder than the tundras from where her mother hailed. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun with a pair of hair sticks as decoration. _Decorative and deadly._ He thought. "I recognize Dame Bedivere, Leader of the Inquisitoria." The ancient man said nodding his consent for her to proceed.

She bowed, acknowledging his authority. "Thank you. As some of you may or may not have heard today marks the one month anniversary since the rumors that the British Dark Lord who called himself Voldemort has been defeated, at the hands of Victoria Potter."

"We already know this." A gruff voice said, as all eyes swiveled to him. A large bear of a man with massive arms thicker than some people's legs, an unkempt beard and black beady eyes, that hid a greater intelligence to them. He was one of the only men in the room that had a claymore weighing more than Dame Bedivere herself, and was capable of wielding it effectively.

"I do not recognize your turn to speak, Sir Kay." The old man scolded.

"My apologies, Milord." Sir Kay responded sheepishly, bowing his head towards their leader and bringing his right hand to his heart.

"Continue Dame Bedivere."

"Following the defeat of Voldemort. Witches and Wizards began a massive celebration, as I'm sure you already know. For two weeks straight the Inquisitoria has had to deal with them parading around in robes, storms of owls flying in broad daylight, drinking in the street, and many magical disturbances that caught non-magical Britain's attentions."

"Dame Bedivere, please hurry to the point. This meeting still has many things to cover, and we do not want to hear all the issues that your department has been forced to go through due to the recent developments. However in light of the amount of work you and those under your command have put forth, our Lady has authorized me to pay your members overtime as well as a bonus for their good work."

She bowed towards him. "Thank you sir, but the reason I'm bringing this information up is that the celebration may be premature and at worse completely fallacious. The magical community is celebrating two things, the defeat of Voldemort and their savior Victoria Serenity Potter. Starting with the first, the Inquisitoria has found that unlike many believe, Voldemort is not actually dead."

"What makes you think that?" Their leader asked, running a gnarled hand against his chin.

"Our sources tell us that when the Dark Lord fell, a wraith burst from his body. I've crosschecked the occurrence with that of our Chief Archivist and we believe that the Dark Lord may have in fact created a horcrux."

A pin could have fallen and the sound would've echoed through the room. It was broken as several members jumped to their feet, and after strapping their blades back to themselves moved towards the door. The doors held shut as they approached, and instead of opening a massive wooden beam appeared and attached itself to the door and the surrounding wall. Those who had stood turned to see their leader pointing towards the door before commanding, "Sit."

They knew better than to grumble as they made their way back to the table and took their seats. "Dame Bedivere, I trust that this knowledge has remained confidential."

"It has Sir, outside of this room, the only person to know is the Chief Archivist."

"Good, good," The old man replied. "Let's keep it that way if possible. Continue with your findings."

"Most of Magical Britain has the tendency to bury their head in the sand, and the Ministry is already promoting the idea that the Dark Lord is gone forever. The only one who may actually have a clue as to what is going on is Albus Dumbledore, but it is the opinion of this council not to trust the man further that I could throw him." All those assembled grinned at the thought, remembering what caused their contempt towards the so called Leader of the Light.

"Continuing our inquiry, we found that it was not Victoria Potter that defeated Voldemort like everyone seems to believe, but her brother Harry."

"Are we even certain as to what killed the Dark Lord?" Sir Kay asked, voicing a question he knew was on everyone's mind.

Dame Bedivere grinned as she reported her findings. "It seems that young Harry conjured over a dozen steel swords and impaled the ponce on them."

"Dame Bedivere." The old man warned, suppressing a smirk at his apprentice's language.

"My apologies, but the event has been confirmed by multiple witnesses that attended the Potter twin's birthday celebration. Of course the demise of the Dark Lord is being attributed to Victoria, as her brother is believed to have no magic, or that of a squib."

Choking silence gripped the room, as a cold pressure washed over each of the members. The deathly presence emanated from their esteemed leader who was gripping his cane hard enough that the wood began to shatter under his touch. Squibs had always been a sore point for the old man. "Anyways…" Dame Bedivere said clearing her throat and drawing the attention back to her. "The blades had originally been seized by Albus Dumbledore and were meant to be displayed prominently in the Ministry's Atrium, as the weapons that defeated the Dark Lord, however our agents intercepted the carriers."

"Dame Bedivere, are you telling me that a child of four years old conjured over a dozen steel swords complete with their intrinsic properties, and imbued them with enough power that they survived days after? I find that hard to believe as even the Great Knights assembled here today, as well as your High Inquisitors are required to hold a conjured item for 31 days to attain their rank. For a child to be able to do so…it's impossible." Another man said jumping to his feet.

Her grin never faded, instead expanding to that of a Cheshire cat, as she brought out 13 longswords and a dagger, from a pocket dimension. "My fellow Inquisitors and Great Knights, it has been a month now, and yet the weapons that slayed a Dark Lord are still here." She passed out the swords, each knight testing the weapons, and checking them for faults. When it came to their leader he simply held one in each hand and exchanged it with another, until he had held all 13.

"13 perfect copies. 13 masterwork blades, sharper than most of our recruits keep theirs. Elegant in their simplicity, Spartan in their function, made simply to kill nothing else." He paused for a moment, embracing the silence as he held the flat of the blade to his forehead. "I sense anger, pain, neglect, and ambition in the magic that created these." He spat the words, his anger rising and chilling the room. "These blades were created by a child?"

"Yes." She affirmed. "Harry James Potter. In addition to these swords, another weapon was recovered." She brought the dagger to bear and handed it to the knight closest to her. Again it passed hands, this time skipping over their leader until it returned to her and she personally handed it to him.

"Beautiful, and horrifying." He whispered. "This blade was conjured?" She nodded, the room staying silent as he carefully examined the weapon. "Were these runes carved after the blade was conjured, or was it created during the conjuration?"

"Tests show that they are the same age as the weapon itself, down to the millisecond. Therefore we can only conclude that it was conjured at the same time."

"Interesting." He nodded. His aura flared bright enough for all to see without drawing on their abilities. Holding out his finger he carefully pricked it, drawing blood. There was a hissing sound as every member drew breath in surprise, though their leader only raised a brow as he let a droplet of blood fall. "Very interesting."

"Sana." He commanded, forcing his magic into the wound. The blood flow slowed but did not stop, as the wound stubbornly refused to heal. He put the dagger down and withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket and wrapped it around his finger, putting pressure on it. "It pierced my auric shield."

"Continuing my report." She said. "Watchers assigned on the Potter family, has put them as training Victoria. Every day Dumbledore, James, and Lily attempt to teach her."

"Attempt?" One of the men assembled asked.

"Correct. Her core is quite large however even at her current age her magic is more temperamental than most. It's almost impossible for her to control. Under the tutelage of the strongest English wizards, and Charms Mistress, she has barely been able to levitate a feather."

"This is the person that Dumbledore has put his faith into?" Their leader asked, raising a brow.

"Yes sir, and if the man didn't believe in the Dark Lord's demise, I doubt that he would be attempting to train the child so young."

"And what of her brother?"

She hesitated for a moment, "After the fight, James Potter stunned him. Lily gathered his belongings, afterwards joined him and together they drove the child to Little Whinging, Surrey and abandoned him on her sister's doorstep."

"What's the boy's condition?" Their leader asked. The room noted the High Inquisitors silence, her uneasy twitching, and darting eyes towards the door, and the windows. "Dame Bedivere."

She licked her lips nervously. "The Potter's have all but abandoned him, his name is still on their tree, but they've cut off all support. I've personally observed his current situation and let me say that I find it lacking."

"Dame Bedivere, please state your observations clearly." Sir Kay said pointedly.

She nodded a few times, and after taking a sip of water started, "I wasn't there for the first few days but my men have reported nothing but abuse and degradation at the hands of his relatives. After I compiled the reports, I thought they were exaggerating, so I went there myself, and have observed them for three weeks. I found that their reports were not only accurate but in my opinion restrained. I've seen the uncle beat the boy for absolutely no reasons. They use him for the most menial tasks regularly subjecting him to dangerous and degrading tasks that no child should suffer. The fat bastard has repeatedly broken his ribs to the point that I'm surprised that his lungs weren't punctured. His aunt burned everything that he owned, stripped him of his clothes and forced him to wear his cousin's clothes. The boy looks absolutely miserable. One time when he was forced to cook for them, mind you the boy can barely see over the stove top at the moment, I don't understand how they expect him to cook. She gave him a chair so that he could see what he was doing, and after accidentally burning their food, she took his hands and placed them on the range, burning him. They refused him any treatment and after wrapping it in dirty towels, threw him into a cupboard under the stairs that serves as his room. The next morning they dragged him out of the darkness, and forced him to cook that morning, and when he failed to produce food, his uncle beat him breaking his arm. Every morning he's dragged out of a cupboard barely large enough to fit him, before suffering worse than some slaves. He's not allowed outside, and the neighbors that know of him are under the impression that his parents are criminally insane and that the boy is a delinquent who will one day attend St. Brutus Secure Centre for Criminally Insane Boys, so there's no help there. Don't even get me started on what that whale of a cousin of his does…" Where she had started nervously, the deeper into her tirade she went the angrier she became, and by the end of it she was surrounded by a visibly pulsing aura that gave off sparks.

"The boy is being tortured!" Sir Kay said jumping to his feet. He wasn't the only one as the Knights were filled with righteous fury.

"Everyone Stop!" Their leader spat, letting loose his power, and driving everyone to their knees. He stood over them, his presence dwarfing theirs and to their imagination it seemed as if he was a giant. He gazed into each of their eyes; Amber met various colors for moments before they turned away from him. The cold fury that he suppressed was nightmarish and awe inspiring. He sighed and withdrew his power, making sure to keep it carefully suppressed. He sat back down, having jumped up when they had moved towards the door. "We will discuss this like civilized human beings, with rational thoughts and a clear head."

The assembled Knights took their seats, aware of the castigation that would follow if they misbehaved once more. "Dame Bedivere, state for the record what your recommendation to the Council is."

She cleared her throat and took a look at her gathered brethren. "Dame Bedivere reporting. From my observations there is definitive proof of torture of a minor. Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, abandoned by parents, and living with his Aunt and Uncle Petunia Dursely, Vernon Dursley, and his cousin Dudley Dursley has suffered physical, mental and emotional abuse, at the hands of the family. There is evidence that he has barely known any form of love, as his sister Victoria was a pampered princess, and his parents believed him to be a squib. Currently the boy is emaciated and starved. He is in need of medical attention, and possibly counseling."

Following her official report the room was silent once more, as their leader pondered the situation. "Is anyone opposed to getting the boy out of there?" No opposition was voiced. Knights and Inquisitors may have had their differences but in the face of such torture they stood united.

"Very well I will make our Lady aware of the situation and we will follow her judgment. Now once we have extracted the boy, the question is what are we going to do with him?"

Remembering his warning from earlier the Knights were silent as they thought about the situation. He suppressed a smile, any other group would've launched into back and forth arguments, but this one stayed quiet. The silence was broken as a single knight slid his chair back and stood at attention. He was shorter in stature, possible the shortest person here. His facial features were hidden by an iron mask that only exposed his eyes, lips, and had two small breathing holes for his nostrils. "We train him." He said simply, his voice distorted by the mask, before he sat down.

Dame Bedivere launched herself to her feet, a feral and mischievous smile on her face. "I'll do it! Give him to me!"

Several of the assembled men groaned and other some others chuckled at her antics. "You would turn him into an Inquisitor?" Sir Kay said horrified.

"Why not?" She asked him innocently, but her eyes locked with his and he saw the coldness in them, as the people around her shifted nervously as sparks jumped from her. It was a reminder that she was one of the most dangerous people in the world. She turned to her comrades. "All of us were raised to be who we are from a young age. He's four years old right now, the same age as our youngest members. Once we get him out from there I estimate a month to get him back to full health. From ages 4-7 he'll undergo basic knight training with others his age. From 7-11 when he'll get his Hogwarts letter he'll be a page with the Inquisitoria. From 11-17 he'll be at Hogwarts but as you all know we have long term plans for that school. Therefore while he's at Hogwarts I'll personally take him under my wings and see to it that he becomes the greatest Inquisitor there ever was, while he is my squire!"

"I object!" Sir Kay screamed, jumping to his feet. His objection was seconded by several other Great Knights. "Give him to the Knights! He is a descendent of Godric and should learn to fight like a man! We'll see to it that he's able to take on any Dark Lord or Dark Lady. We'll follow Dame Bedivere's plan but tailor it to turn him into a Great Knight before he turns 18." Several knights stood in approval.

"Please if you raise him with this pack and in the image of Godric, never mind defeating a Dark Lady, he'll more likely bed her." Dame Bedivere accused, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Several other Dames chuckled at the thought.

"We resent that!" One of the Knights spat back. "Godric was a great man! And a good knight!"

"Notice how you didn't deny the fact that he would've bedded her." Dame Bedivere grinned. The room was silent once more as their leader sat back watching the antics of the men and women before him stifling a groan and rubbing his temples. He could feel a headache coming on already, and before either side could throw another insult or worse draw their swords he slammed his palm down upon the marble. This got everyone's attention as they looked at each other sheepishly.

"We have to get him away from his abusers first." Their leader pointed out. "We'll put him through basic knight training for 3 years as both sides suggested and after his basic training and conditioning is done we'll convene a meeting of his teachers and the Council to determine his aptitude, for the disciplines."

"10 galleons says the boy becomes a knight." Sir Kay said crossing his arms.

"Why so low? Scared you're going to be wrong?" Bedivere taunted. "100 on him joining the Inquisitoria."

Sir Kay blanched at the amount. That was more than a single paycheck for him. Yet he wouldn't give Dame Bedivere the satisfaction of saying that he chickened out of a bet, he wouldn't be denied, and nodded at his rival.

Their leader muffled another groan, reminding himself to fix the seating for their next meeting to prevent these two from sitting across from each other. "Now that we have some semblance of a plan, I ask if anyone else has issues that need to be addressed."

When no one answered he nodded, and stood up from his throne, unsheathing his blade and pointing it towards the center. Every person present mimicked his movements, and as one spoke:

"We are the Knights of Emrys. Carrying out Magic's will since before the birth of Rome. Our swords sever the ties of magic bringing balance to the world. This pledge we make from now unto death, by age, sickness or battle forever we remain true, loyal to Her Will. Honored to fight along brother and sister with spell, blade or bare hand, we solemnly swear to stand against corruption. Courageous against any foe, the blade that strikes from the void, valiant are we who walk the lonely roads of immortality never faltering, never failing. For we are the judges who stand vigil at Twilight Gates, our bodies the bulwark that breaks Light and Dark. Forever may we remain, let magic be our bonder. So mote it be!"

As one they sheathed their blades, and after removing the swords from the back of their chairs strode out the door two abreast in perfect synchronization.

After departing from the Council meeting the de facto leader, made his way to the Palace. Bypassing the guards he entered the ground unchallenged, and once inside the building itself, no one did more than nod their head in acknowledgment of his presence. It took him only a few minutes to arrive outside his Lady's private study, when he heard voices already inside. There were only a few people she would receive in his private suites and unsure if this was an intruder or a guest drew his blade. Tightening the control of his magic he made ready to strike out in a moment's notice. Just as he was about to barrel through the door, it was thrown open and a woman held her hands up in surrender.

"Duke Percival." The woman said stepping back, making sure to hold her hands up.

"Prime Minister." Percival said sheathing his blade. As he entered the room his eyes darted around looking for anything wrong. It was a simple room, Her Ladyship's private study, one wall was filled with books, and another had file cabinets leaning against it. There was a door to the side that contained a small but comfortable bed that was sometimes used when she was unable to tear herself far from her work. The most prominent feature of the room was undoubtedly the massive desk that was placed in the center. The most prominent feature of the room was undoubtedly the massive desk that was placed in the center. Behind that desk sat her Ladyship, Queen Anne, ruler of the Isles. Approaching her he went to his knee and placed his hand against his heart, making sure to keep his head bowed. "Milady."

He heard her chair slide back, and he saw her feet in front of him before she extended her hand towards him. Taking her hand he placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "Arise, my Knight."

He did so, seeing the beaming face of his Queen. Even though she was past her prime, her beauty had yet to fade. Long silken brown hair was braided down to the middle of her back. Warm brown eyes, held a mischievous glint, as her ruby lips were turned in a smile. She wore a golden dress with white airy lace at the cuffs of her sleeves which ended just past her elbows. "What news have you brought me, Percival?"

At the mentioning of his name, he grinned like a school boy. It was going to be one of those conversations. "Ladies." He said sweeping his arm to the far corner of the room where a sofa lay. After the two women were seated comfortably he conjured a simple wooden stool for himself. "Prime Minister, have you heard anything from your magical counterpart?"

The Prime Minister nodded, "Millicent Bagnold, who is currently the Minister for Magic, has informed me that the menace known as Voldemort is dead."

"Is this true?" The Queen asked.

"Yes, the Inquisitoria has confirmed it." He said, before explaining the findings of Dame Bedivere, but held off from talking about the exact situation the boy was currently in.

"For a child to bear such a burden…" Anne began. "It saddens me that this is what the world has come to." She got up from her couch and went to the window, drawing the curtain back slightly as she gazed upon the gardens of the castle. "In the last 50 years we have had 2 Dark Lords wreck devastation upon this country. First it was Grindelwald who invaded with the Nazis, and now this Voldemort. I've had enough!"

Her anger caught their attention, as several pens rose from her desk and impaled themselves in the door. "When once Dark Lords and ladies were sparse more and more they have risen as time advanced. We cannot afford to have a Dark Lord rise every decade. When the Monarchy allowed the Ministry of Magic to be self-governing certain stipulations were agreed upon. One of which was that they had to stop Wizards and Witches from harming the non-magical population. Yet war has broken out and innocents unaware of magic have been drawn into the fight."

She held out her hand and the pens removed themselves from the door and floated back into the cup where they had been previously. "On top of that is the Ministry so incompetent that it took a child to defeat a Dark Lord? That fool Dumbledore puts too much faith in prophecy. If I were him I would've taken Voldemort out and tried to kill him. If he died, he died, and if not well…there's nothing stated in the prophecy about cutting his limbs off and sticking him in a hole long enough for the child to cast a spell that would fulfill the prophecy."

She moved away from the window and took a seat once more behind her desk. "Tell me about Victoria Potter."

"She's being hailed as the Girl-Who-Live, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, Dark Slayer."

Anne gave an unladylike snort that all of them would deny ever seeing. "If she keeps it up with the titles she's going to surpass that old goat by the time she's an adult."

He had to try hard not to smirk at her answer. "Let it out, Percival, we're not in public." A smile bloomed on his weathered face. "All these titles, growing up surrounded by fame, I have a feeling she's going to be quite spoiled and narcissistic."

He nodded at her answer. "A child like that needs a good paddling to remind her of reality." The Prime Minister spat.

They both turned and fixed her with small smiles "Margaret, we both know that you never paddled your children."

"My children didn't grow up believing that they were responsible for the salvation of an entire race." She retorted. "I'm getting tired of the way they refer to themselves as well. They seem to forget that there are entire magic communities around the world. Some of which are far older and others far stronger than they are."

"Don't remind me." Anne sighed rubbing her temples with her hands. "Every time I meet with other foreign leaders I'm reminded that worldwide we are ranked in the middle in competency. To hear that what was once our colonies boasting about being stronger and more knowledgeable in magic, really drives home the point that education needs to change. The worst have to be the Americans, they haven't let me live it down that they've surpassed us in magical engineering and technological advancement. I think the only ones who have it worse are the French and that's because the American ambassador brings up saving them every chance he gets."

Percival laughed, "Don't tell me that the Minister of Magic still believes us to be unaware of their every action? All the foreign dignitaries that meet with Minister Bagnold play nice with her, but even they know who the real power in this country is."

"Further proof that the Ministry is incompetent and the dangers of inbreeding." Margaret stated. "Percival, is there any truth to these rumors that they still discriminate against blood status?"

The man sighed, and seeing the narrowing of his Lady's eyes, shivered. "Yes. The Inquisitoria has reported that like Grindelwald, Voldemort also promoted a pure-blood supremacy regime."

"Idiots." Margaret hissed. "We should just leave them alone. Let them breed themselves into extinction."

"Peace Margaret." Anne said holding her hand up. "From their findings, the Inquisitoria believes that Voldemort is still alive?"

"Yes ma'am. A transcript of my meeting with the Council can be found in your cabinet as well as any pertinent information."

"Anything interesting happen?" Margaret asked.

"Just your standard verbal spar between Bedivere and Kay. Honestly those two haven't grown up at all."

"He should just court her properly and be done with it." Anne responded.

"Hopefully he'll court her properly in 3 years. That's where my marker is in the pool."

"You started a betting pool on when those two would realize their feelings for each other?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much else for us to do, considering we're not allowed to actively hunt down Dark Wizards and creatures unless you expressly permit us to do so."

"The Knights of Emrys as you are called now, were founding members of this country. You stood on the shores of Normandy in 1066 and fought against the Norman invaders. You were here long before that though, and you have proved your loyalty repeatedly."

"We live only to fulfill our mission. Our alliance with the ruling houses of Britain and the world simply make our jobs easier."

"Things need to change in this country, Percival. The wizards are stuck in the Dark ages, stagnant as the world surges ahead."

He snorted at her observation, to which she raised a brow. "I'm sorry Anne but we have records from the Dark Ages, the current wizards are sometimes even worse than their ancient counterparts. But I agree with you, things need to change, and I believe I have the perfect agent to implement such actions."

"Really? Who?" Anne asked.

"Harry James Potter."

"Ah yes, Victoria's brother."

"Yes and the real slayer of Voldemort." He said to the surprise of everyone in the room. He explained what the Inquisitoria had found, and how the young boy had managed to slay a Dark Lord.

Anne was grinning reminiscent of Dame Bedivere, as scenarios played out in her head. "The boy sounds like a knight already. What do you need from me?"

Percival hesitated for a moment, before he explained the boy's current familial status. By the time he finished Anne looked outraged, and Margaret, kept closing and opening her hands as if she were strangling someone. "Cast out by his parents? Dropped on a doorstep to live with abusers?"

He nodded solemnly. He had a soft spot for children, no doubt caused by his granddaughter who was the same age as Harry. "We want to rescue the boy, and put him through training. There's no doubt in my mind that one day Voldemort will rise again and when that day comes, it will not be Victoria Potter who stands against him but Harry."

Anne nodded several times, before looking at Margaret, who nodded in assent. "May I have some paper?" She asked.

After handing her several sheets, she began writing on them. Each paper bore the heading of Her Majesty's government, and after finishing the document with a flourish, no doubt signing her name, she handed it to Anne who read it over. Opening her drawer she removed her signet ring and poured hot wax onto the sheet, before pressing the crest onto the page. Allowing it to cool for several seconds she signed her name at the bottom, and folding the letter up, put it in an official envelope that she sealed with wax and her signet. She held it in her hands for a few moments, bouncing it against her palm before she handed it to Percival.

"I'm trusting you with this. It's a formal pardon, and authorization for you to act with impunity in this matter. Bring the boy to me when it's done." He took the letter from her, and after bowing left the room.

"Why do I have the feeling this is going to come back and bite us in the arse?" Margaret groaned.

"Because it probably will. We've known Percival for a long time, and he won't tolerate child abusers."

"What of the other boy? Dudley?"

"If the reports are anything to go by he's just like his father and irredeemable. Make sure that evidence is found so that he'll be sent to St. Brutus, let them try to fix the boy."

"No person is above redemption. Everyone deserves a chance to be forgiven."

She snorted at Margaret's answer, though she knew she was playing Devil's Advocate. "If we followed Dumbledore's beliefs and used stunners only we'd never win a war. Someone tries to kill you, you kill them the first chance you get. Let their maker forgive them, for they'll find no mercy from me."

Leaving his meeting with the Queen, orders in hand, Percival couldn't help but feel giddy. He enjoyed fulfilling his Lady's orders and took pleasure in exceeding her expectations. Exiting the palace to find a car waiting for him, he entered the back and with a wave of his hand the limo pulled away. Opening the middle compartment of the seats he pulled out a DynaTac Phone, wondering how he had lived without it before. Mobile telephones! It was amazing what people could come up with. Punching in a phone number, he prepared himself for what lay ahead.

"Hello?" A female voice said drowsily.

"Dame Bedivere, it's good that you're awake."

"Of course I'm awake, the sun hasn't even fallen yet, and I'm buried under paper work."

"Good, then I'm sure my proposition will be quite heartening to you. As it will get you out from under the horrifying and mind-numbing deluge that is your backed up work."

"Anything that gets me away from here." She grumbled.

"I need you to meet me at 4 Privet Drive, Little Surrey."

"That's the home of Potter. Did Her Highness issue orders?"

"Yes, and even better Margaret was there and wrote us a formal pardon."

The line was silent for a moment before maniacal giggling flooded the speaker. "I'll be there in a few minutes, and I'll be dressed properly for the occasion."

Knocking on the glass that separated him from his driver, he waited for it to roll down. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The glass rolled back up, and he leaned back going through his mental exercises in preparation for what needed to be done.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

An hour later he arrived in the cul-de-sac known as Privet Drive. Telling the driver to wait for his return, he stepped out of the car. Across from where he stood lay the perfectly manicured lawn of #4. The entire neighborhood sent shivers down his back with its uniformity, and he couldn't help but feel several people's gaze upon him. It felt like they were appraising his worth, as if he were a prime cut of meat; it was dehumanizing to say the least. Parked in front of the house was the latest in English engineering, a 1984 Rolls-Royce Phantom VI Limousine in a sleek black color. He sighed to himself, leave it up to Bedivere to show up in a flashy car completely out of place in the neighborhood, though his own Silver Spur limo was no better.

He was half way to her car, when the door opened up, revealing Bedivere in all her splendor. Though she was dressed the same in her black high heel shoes, conservative black skirt, white shirt with the top buttons undone, and a black blazer, there was something mesmerizing about her. The way the clothes clung to her like a second skin, immodest yet modest. Something that whispered sweet nothings in his ear that teased of the carnal pleasures hidden beneath the folds of her clothes. Her blue eyes no longer held their piercing cold stare but instead shone like sapphires, a mischievous twinkling like the stars. She had a pouty look on her face, her ruby lips catching the attention of all who saw, their taste the fantasy of many a man. Her long hair was tied into a bun like before except this time her hair sticks were purest silver, tipped with sapphires. The greatest difference from her previous appearance was the fact that she was wearing simple black glasses. He could feel the pull towards her and from the corner of his eye saw several men drooling as they gazed upon a beauty that rivaled Aphrodite's. Doors began to open as men left their homes and moved towards her, like mindless zombies. She saw the scene before her, a victorious smile flashing across her face, as she slowly reached for one of her hair sticks. Just as she was about to pull it free, and allow her luscious locks to be untamed, he reached her and grabbed her wrist.

"Enough!" He said coldly, raising his occlumnecy barriers to the maximum. He could still feel her pull at the edges of his mind, but it was no longer as strong.

The pouty look on her face turned into slight annoyance as she lowered her hand. She closed her eyes for a moment and the spell was broken. There was no question that she was still beautiful, a goddess in the flesh, but now there was less of a desire to grovel at her feet and start wars at her command. "Damn veela." He said shrugging his shoulders, and shaking his head in attempt to focus his thoughts.

"You still love me like a daughter." She played, laughing as the old man grumbled to himself.

"What's the situation?"

Her face grew dark, and he could've sworn smoke began to rise from her hand as she suppressed the urge to hurl a fireball into the home. "Bad. I heard screaming earlier but it wasn't from the boy, and now I can hear quiet cursing. As if he was afraid of drawing attention to himself."

"Hmmmm." Percival hummed staring at the home.

"What?"

"I don't know. I was hoping that there would be some sort of ward, or something that would at least alert his parent's if something happened to him. It seemed naïve of me, to believe in the best. The boy's parents have truly abandoned him." He said shaking his head in disappointment.

"How do you want to do this?" She asked.

"We'll go as a headmaster and his deputy, eager to recruit a new student into our prestigious school." He said after a moment of silence.

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Then we do what's necessary to extract the boy."

"Ok, but if it comes to that, you take the boy, and leave me to entertain the whale and horseface."

"Horseface?" He asked.

"Petunia Dursley. Hearing her gossip in that screechy voice as she turns her nose up annoys me. Her arrogance is pathetic for one so low in the pecking order."

He simply nodded at her answer, and together they made their way across the freshly manicured lawn. Leaning against his cane he motioned for her to ring the bell.

"Am I the only one creeped out by the way these houses look?" She asked.

He barked out a laugh, and was about to answer when he sensed someone approaching from the other side of the door. The door opened moments later to reveal a rather plain woman dressed in a long brown olive skirt, and wearing a bone shirt decorated with branches and leaves in various shades of red and brown. She took one look at the two figures before her, catching the tailored cut of their clothes, the woman's expensive jewelry and the car/limo that they had arrived in, and said. "Can I help you?" As she spoke, her chin was raised high, her nose pointed above their heads as she leered down at them. A feat made easier by her long neck that invoked images of giraffes.

"Petunia Dursley?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Yes." She replied haughtily.

"Good afternoon, the woman beside me is Baroness Bedivere, and I am Duke Percival. We have matters most urgent to discuss. May we come in?"

They didn't need to be accomplished legilimens to see the gears turning in the woman's head at the presence of two members of the Queen's peerage. "Please." She said graciously, stepping back and welcoming them into her home.

"Thank you." He said, allowing for Bedivere to enter first. As he entered his eyes darted around the taking in everything. He especially noted the stairs and the small cupboard that lay underneath, and had to suppress the urge to summon his blade. He turned to see Bedivere was in a similar position, as she grimaced at the décor. No doubt it was affront to what she considered cultured and refined.

"Petunia, dear, who was at the door?" A whale asked lumbering into the hallway. Like his wife the pig observed them, and if Bedivere was unsettled by his leering gaze she didn't show it. "Who are these people?"

"Baroness Bedivere and Duke Percival." His wife answered smiling. "They said that they had matters most urgent to discuss with us."

"Then let me show them to the parlor, while you put on a cup of tea." He said, looking his wife in the eye, a hidden message passing between the two.

She retreated to the kitchen, where they could hear water being poured into a kettle and set atop a stove. The familiar click-click sound of the burner sent his mind off to ideas about accidental gas explosions. The whale led them to a "parlor" which was nothing more than a glorified sitting room tastefully decorated. He noticed the narrowing of his partner's eyes at the overall tackiness of the room as well as the pig's effort to act sophisticated.

 _I wonder if my pig sticker would even hit anything vital. There must be at least 3 inches of blubber on the man. How hasn't he keeled over from a heart attack yet?_ Was one such thought that raced across Bedivere's mind. _If he were any wider I'd need Kay's claymore to cut through him. Or maybe a boar spear._ She took a look at the room. _No, too confined for me to set it up._

They sat quietly in the room though he felt the faintest of magics emanating from under the cupboard. From the kitchen the kettle whistled for a few seconds before it was pulled from the range. Minutes later Petunia returned to the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea, containers containing milk, sugar, honey, lemon slices, and most importantly several cups. Trailing behind her was a portly boy who although nowhere near his father's girth was far larger than a boy should be. He was dressed in a brown wool jacket with dull red strips running vertically through it. Brown pants matching the jacket and a beige shirt. From the corner of his eye he caught a slight smile from Bedivere.

Petunia set the tray down on the central table, before wrapping her arms around the boy. They barely fit. "This is my son Dudley." She said with pride. "Dudley, these people are part of the Queen's Peerage."

"Peerage?" The boy asked with a stupefied expression, turning to look up at his mother.

"It means we're part of the genteel class." Percival said, and after seeing the boy's expression remaining stumped, mentally swore. Hopefully the boy they had come for was smarter than the lummox in front of them. "We're nobles. This is the Baroness Bedivere and I am Duke Percival."

"So her name is Baroness and yours is Duke?" The boy asked.

 _God grant me patience._ He prayed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he saw Bedivere fixing the boy with a pitying smile. "Close enough."

The boy smiled at his perceived intelligence, then took a seat next to his father. Petunia poured the tea, offering the various flavorings which they both denied. He sipped the tea, suppressing a grimace. He saw Bedivere take a whiff of the tea, followed by a dainty sip, before she put it down.

"Thank you." She said curtly.

"To business." Percival said setting down his cup. "As stated we are both members of Her Majesty's Peerage. Specifically the two of us are tasked with running a school, the Royal Academy. It is the most prestigious institution in the country, dedicated to raising the next generation of aristocrats and world leaders." Percival explained.

"Why haven't we heard about this school before?" Vernon huffed.

"It's by invitation only. The Baroness serves as my deputy headmistress; she's my second in command and handles the day to day operations." Percival clarified. "We've come to extend an invitation."

Both Vernon and Petunia screamed in joy, as they rushed their son and embraced him. "Congratulations Duddykins." Petunia screeched. As Vernon clapped him on the back. "Great job son, I knew you had it in you. Just think, one day you'll be on the forefront of this country."

It was bad that he took a sadistic pleasure in their joy, waiting for the right moment to crush it. He'd repent later, but it was too enjoyable right now. He cleared his throat in an attempt to gain their attention and when that didn't work tapped his cane to the floor. A deep bellowing reverberated from it, surprising even him. It looked like he'd have to tweak the rune scheme once more.

Having secured their attention once more he smiled at them. "I'm sorry but the offer wasn't for your son."

"Then who the bloody hell is it for!" Vernon roared.

"Harry Potter." He responded, savoring the expression that they made.

"Why would you want that boy, he's nothing more than a miscreant, doomed to be criminals like his parents."

The room's temperature suddenly spiked as Bedivere glared at the woman. "Do not insult Lily like that. I may not agree with some of her decisions, but she was once my friend."

"Let me be blunt, his parents were neither criminal, nor whatever else you may call them. And as to why I extend this offer to Harry is simply because he deserves it. Going by test scores he is incredibly smart. Far more so than your son."

"I think it's time for you to go now." Vernon said lumbering towards him.

"Go?" Percival queried. "I think I'm going to stay. Negotiations have broken down. Bedivere restrain the accused." In a flash the entire Dursley family was on their backs, shackles on the limbs stretching them spread-eagle. Heavy iron collars were placed around their neck and prevented them from even tilting their heads. Suspended above the two elder Dursleys was a longsword, poised to pierce through their hearts.

Oh how they screamed in horror, spluttering curses and whimpering, begging for their worthless lives. He let them cry out as loudly as they wanted; the world would end before a single sound escaped from the barrier he had erected around the house.

Picking himself up off the couch he made his way to the cupboard, and no sooner than he had placed his hand on the lock than a foot of steel cut into his side. "SON OF A BITCH!" He screamed in pain and surprise. He clutched his side, his hand coated in blood. Normally he would've had his aura to protect him, but the attack had been like the dagger before, it cut through it. A moment later, Bedivere was by his side pressing a towel against it, and securing it to make a pressure bandage. She then forced open his mouth and poured a vial of blood replenishers, ignoring his own cursing. After doing this she turned her eyes towards the cupboard, and focused her power. In response over a dozen blades stabbed from the other side in an attempt to kill anyone that opened the door.

Taking no chances she raised her hand, and threw a ball of veela fire at the door. In a flash the door was ash, and a screaming boy charged at her clutching a dagger in each hand. He looked even worse than when she had last seen him, but it was the wounded animal that was most dangerous. She parried both his blades out wide and brought her knee into his solar plexus, controlling her power so she didn't shatter his rib cage. As he stumbled back he kept his eyes on her, and gritted his teeth, a defiant light in his eyes.

She smiled, savoring the look in his eyes. He attacked once more, and once more she defended herself, though this time she threw him over her shoulder, and slammed her palm down onto his solar plexus "Ligate!"

She put him in a full body bind as chains wrapped around him and secured his supine form. She stepped back for a moment, and turned her attention towards Percival, who was laying on the couch spitting curses. "Since you can still curse like that, you'll be fine."

Picking Harry up, she slung him over her shoulder, and carried him into the sitting room where his eyes widened at the Dursley's predicament. He stared for a moment, before giggling madly. The giggling turned into maniacal laughter, that when combined with his actions minutes before made her question his mental state. She plopped him down on the nearest chair, before throwing Percival a phial of pain relievers and one of pepper-up potion. He drank both quickly, before closing his eyes appreciatively. "He's feisty ain't he?" Bedivere chuckled.

He fixed her with a withering glare, before speaking through gritted teeth. "Feisty only begins to cover it."

Harry looked between the two knights trying to figure out the situation. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were still screaming their heads off and it was beginning to wear on his last nerves. "SHUT UP!" He commanded, anger lacing his voice. The swords hanging over them shattered, as everything within 5 feet of him was crushed and the ground cratered. Everyone was silent, the Dursleys with their mouth agape, for the knights they eyed him appraisingly.

Bedivere turned to her Leader, smiling, "I want him!" For some reason that statement instilled absolute fear in him, as he shivered in his chains.

"Good for you." Percival grumbled, sitting up. With a wave of his hand the shattered remains of the swords reformed themselves into dozens of knives, which returned to hover over the whale and horse. "Now Harry, the woman beside you is Bedivere, and my name is Percival."

"I thought your name was Duke and her name was Baroness." Dudley whined.

He could feel his blood pressure rising, combined with his anger at being wounded and have potions stuffed down his throat, he was entitled to a small outburst. He fixed the boy with an annoyed glare, hitting him with a bludgeoner spell. The air whooshed out of him, and he was silent once more, causing Percival to smile contentedly.

"Continuing from before I was so rudely interrupted, we mean you no harm."

He leaned against his cane, attempting to project a nonthreatening manner. Bedivere on the other hand dispelled the chains holding him, and hugged him from behind. "You can think of me as your big sister."

"Okay old lady." He said sarcastically.

The corner of her eye twitched, a tick mark appearing on her forehead, but the most obvious sign of her displeasure was the tightening of her arms around him. "Big Sister." She whispered the air freezing at her tone as she dragged out each syllable.

Not even in the face of the abuse of his uncle and aunt did he utter a cry, but the woman behind him elicited a whimper, as he corrected himself. "Big sister?"

She smiled, purring as she stroked his head, like a pet. "Good boy." He leaned against her, for some reason finding safety and comfort in her warmth. As she petted him, she silently cast several diagnostic spells on him, her smile turning into a frown the more she read into the data. "Harry." She said ceasing her petting. He turned to her; his eyes glazed over, glistening with unshed tears. "Shhhhh." She said hugging his chest to her bosom.

The floodgates that held back his emotions, were torn asunder as the onslaught of memories fully assaulted him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly as he cried. Embracing each other, she willed her magic into him, mending bones, healing bruises, and knitting flesh. He relaxed in her arms, exhaustion threatening to claim him, but he forced it aside. Ice blue met killing green as he looked up into her eyes. She smiled at him, hugging him tighter. Content to hold him for a while longer, nonetheless she tore herself away from his gaze and looked to Percival, and nodded.

He approached the boy, kneeling to look at him eye level. His old bones creaked and he suppressed a groan as his knees popped. "Harry, you have nothing to fear." He said gently, extending his hand palm facing up.

Harry met the old man's stare and lost himself in his violet gaze, as he reached out to take hold of the hand. Percival extended a light mental probe towards the boy, lightly scanning his thoughts. He felt a brush against his own mental barriers and was surprised, Harry had launched his own clumsy probe towards him. _Definitely going to end up in the Inquisitoria._ He chuckled to himself, allowing the thought to bleed pass his barriers.

Harry's eyes widened, as Percival began to feed him small bits of information, as well as powerful emotions that would bolster the boy's own. For once in his life Harry knew what it meant to feel love and the euphoria it could bring as well as the darkness. He felt true hatred and anger, feelings so corrupting that he wondered how Percival could bear them. The strongest of all, was not love, but ambition. As he gazed into Percival's mind he saw a man that had once been the weakest grow stronger and stronger, constantly pushing himself to outshine his peers. If one style of fighting didn't work he developed another, so on it went for all disciplines. Instead of adapting himself to suit the standard teaching methods he created his own that would benefit himself. This was a person who had climbed the ranks to seize a Duchy, to be the Queen's Left Hand, who sought power to gain more power.

Turning his gaze from the man he was awed. The man had accomplished so much, and gained so much. The man was at heart a cold pragmatist and utilitarian, and some would go so far as to call him slightly nihilistic. Unknown to anyone in the room, this would be the pivotal meeting that would lead to the making of Hadrian Potter. Hadrian Potter who stood on his own two feet, and answered every insult with steel and spell fire.

Finding all that he needed, Percival wheeled on the Dursley's a furious expression on his face. Oh how his hand twitched, it wouldn't take much, just a simple wave of his hand and the blades would descend to butcher the adults like the animals they were. The boy would be spared due to the fact he wasn't of age yet and that he didn't want to hear from Anne about how he eliminated an entire family. Besides if he left the boy as is, he was sure Margaret had something nasty in store for him. He sighed and banished the thoughts of killing them all.

Bedivere on the other hand was looking for someone to vent her ire. She had felt everything Harry had experienced. Her veela heritage gave her the abilities of a natural born empath, to say that she was angry was an understatement. Black smoke was rising from various parts of her body, as she struggled to maintain her form, something that she was failing at as feathers began to sprout from her skin. The chair that they both sat on was beginning to heat up and emit a sulfurous smell, overpowering their nasal senses.

 _She still has the same problems that she had as a child._ Percival sighed, and tapped his cane twice against the floor. The first spell temporarily cleared the air of the smell, the second snapped a bubblehead charm around both his and Harry's head, allowing them to breath should she go Harpy.

For Harry one minute the offensive smell was permeating his nostrils the next he was able to breath clean air, though his vision was slightly blurred as the charm was enacted. He recognized it almost immediately from his mother's spell book, and ran his hand over the dome that had formed over his head. It was almost impossible for him not to giggle as the mercurial dome moved as he pushed against it, being careful not to pierce it. His giddiness quickly passed, as he shifted slightly away from Bedivere. She sensed his discomfort and picking him up set him to the side. Afterwards she got up, and stalked out the back door. His skin tingled as the magic in the air congregated around the house. For a moment a look of worry flickered across his face, but then he recognized the signature as well as the purpose, a ward that sealed them within an enclosed space.

Then came a scream, a guttural sound that would've put a banshee to shame, as every window and glass broke sending shards out at terminal velocity. Tapping his cane once more he erected a dome around the inhabitants protecting them from the lethal projectiles. After Bedivere stopped screaming, it was quiet for several seconds, and then a massive boom followed as if someone had set off a grenade on the front lawn. The entirety of the front house exploded such that, the people who had been standing in the sitting room were exposed to the outside. Bedivere stood on the front lawn, her left hand on her hip, as she raised a fireball with her right. This time the Dursleys car was the target of her ire, and as the fireball impacted against the vehicle the car was turned into twisted slag. The Veela fire melted the entirety of the car until there was nothing left but a puddle of molten metals and plastics.

A smile broke across her face, as if she no longer had any worries, her magic flooding her inducing a state of euphoria. Holding both her hands out, palm facing up, two balls of veela fire burst into life. Then she locked the elder Durseleys with a chilling smile, bouncing the balls lightly in her palms. "Percival, drop the barrier."

She caught his moment of hesitation and launched both balls at the barrier which collapsed under her assault. Striding towards them she teased, "Naughty, naughty, naughty."

Vernon's face was had long since gone pale and was bordering on a sickly green color. Petunia was unconscious, having passed out when the front of her house exploded, and Dudley was Dudley. To them he was an insect. They would've forgotten about the boy completely had he not soiled himself, a puddle of piss pooling around him, and a horrid stench coming from his pants. She began flinging fireballs at Vernon, laughing as he cringed in fear. "Mercy!" The man cried.

She paused. "You dare to beat a child, and beg for mercy?" Another scream ripped through the house as she clapped her hands together and spread them wide, creating a large fireball. "Make peace with your God, pig. For you'll find no mercy from me."

Just as she was about to let loose the raging inferno, "That's enough," Percival commanded, tapping his cane. Magic deflected her aim upwards and the veela fire burned its way through the roof, rose skyward a hundred feet and exploded in a magnificent wave of flames. "Bedivere!" He admonished. She instantly snapped to attention, a conditioned response to her training. "Have your senses left you?" He roared. "You were about to unleash an attack that would've been classed as a Level-10 Anti-squad spell. INDOORS! You may be fireproof, but the rest of us aren't!"

She shifted her feet nervously, having the decency to look abashed, as Percival continued his lecture for over 5 minutes, repeatedly questioning her intelligence and swearing to demote whoever it was that promoted her. In the back of her mind she was laughing at his anger. While venting his spleen he seemed to have forgotten that it was he that recommended her for promotion and eventually gave her the position as leader of the Inquisitoria. She blanked her mind, fearing that if he picked up on her inner musings he would literally chew her ass out. "Sir." She said as soon as they reached a lull in the conversation and he was huffing in anger.

"What!" He snapped.

"Your blood pressure, Sir." She pointed it out in hopes that he would calm down, but it only served as another topic for her to be screamed at. Several times Harry could feel a giggle coming on, as Percival launched on a tirade about his idiotic doctor, and how next time he approached with a blood pressure cuff the man would need to get it surgically removed from his anus. It also made him question whether some of the things Percival was swearing to do were even anatomically possible. After another five minutes his tirade ended and he conjured for himself a glass of water.

"Feeling better?" Harry volunteered.

"Much." Percival responded. "Bedivere, you're like a daughter to me, so next time you decided to do something foolish so help me, I'll bend you over my knee and deliver a paddling that would make it uncomfortable to sit for a week." The last part was said as he stared straight into her eyes, and his face was inches from hers. He calmed down moments later and conjured a chair for himself to sit on. Chin in his left hand leaning against his knee he prodded Vernon several times in amusement. "Now what to do about you two."

 _I know what I'd do._ Harry mused an ornate dagger appearing in his hand. The next moment it was taken from him by Bedivere who waggled her finger at him. "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, no need for you to stain your hands with this filth." She flipped the dagger into the air, caught it by the blade, then threw it into the remaining wall. The dagger buried itself into the Dursley family picture, right between Petunia's eyes. Petunia, having woken up moments before screamed as she saw the dagger bury itself in her photo. "Shut up." Bedivere snarled holding her hand out to Harry. It took him a moment to get the message, before he conjured another ornate dagger this time with an emerald in the pommel.

Placing the weapon in her hand she took a second to admire its beauty before flinging it once more into the picture, this time right between Dudley's legs. "If you keep crying your line ends with your son." She threatened.

"Hem-Hem." Percival sounded, before she could further threaten the family. "As I started before, you Dursley's are absolute filth. You mercilessly beat a child because he has magic."

"THE FREAK DESERVED IT! I WOULD'VE-" Vernon bellowed but was cut off as Percival jabbed him in the throat with his cane.

"Call Harry a freak one more time and I will peel you like an onion." He hissed. "It's you who are the freaks! You think it's normal to look like you do? I bet if you went to the beach some would confuse you for the whale you are. You and your son are nothing more than swine."

"And you Petunia!" Bedivere started. "You do nothing more than gossip. You physically abuse your nephew after he fails at moronic chores that you in fact should have done yourself."

"We curse you." Bedivere and Percival said in unison.

"Petunia, you love to gossip and spout lies about other people. Henceforth I lay the curse of Cassandra upon you. Forever shall you know the truth, but never shall you be believed. Until your mortal end suffer alone bearing the burden of knowledge. No matter where you go no sanctuary will be offered, no succor at another's table. You desire to be more than your station allows, and will use any method to gain it. I curse thee, no matter what clothes you don they shall turn to rags; no shoe shall protect your feet. Walk forevermore in shame."

"Vernon Dursley, you are a pig in a man's body. It is only fitting that the flesh reflects the mind. I curse thee, no food shall you consume in pleasure. Anything you touch shall turn stale and old, yet you will eat it. I curse thee never will you find fulfillment in the food you consume, forever will you seek a drink only to cringe in pain as it makes its way down your gullet.Coldest water will burn down your throat. Hottest drink will freeze your soul."

"Dudley Dursley" They both intoned. "The sins of your parents weight heavily upon you. You who taunted and beat your cousin, who gathered friends and thrashed him with fist and rod. So young yet innocence lost, your fate has been sealed. You are an incorrigible swine, so with clear conscience we curse thee. You shall eat your fill, but one bite more than you need and in the muck shall you wallow. Cursed to be a swine until the next rise of Sol." They paused, tilting their heads, their eyes glazing over as if they were receiving a message. "A second curse we lay on you, for fate has deemed to grant you a slim chance of redemption. Never again shall you raise your hand in offense. Should you strike any being it is you who will receive thrice the damage. Approach any with intent less than grey or harmful, and stricken with pain worse than Zeus bore before Athena burst forth from his skull. Suffer and take heed of the lessons we impart lest death takes hold."

"So we curse you, you wretched fiends. Let magic be our bonder and judge! Should our goal be noble, our cause true, and our methods just, let our curse take hold. If judged and found wanting, should we falter in your pursuit, or spout fallacies let us suffer all the curses we have laid. So we implore! So we swear! So mote it be!"

A massive burst of magic ripped through the house demolishing what was left of the structure. Magic accepted the vow sworn by her knights, as blackened chains wrapped around the each of the Dursleys. How they screamed as the chains burned away their flesh as they burrowed deeper into each of them, until their barbs wrapped around the soul. The magical eruption had the unfortunate side effect of blowing away all of their carefully laid wards and charms. Wards that repelled muggles, and sealed the space they were in, as well as powerful notice-me-not charms were scattered to the wind.

Bedivere swore, her work destroyed. Knowing what would happen next she grabbed hold of Harry, "Take care of this would you."

Flames erupted around them, and in an instant they were gone.

"Damn." Percival spat. It was just like her to grab hold of their target and leave cleanup to someone else. He kicked over a piece of debris in his frustration, already dreading the crowd forming on the lawn of #4 Privet Drive. Many of the mundanes were gesturing wildly the question on their minds was how could such destruction have happened without any of them noticing. Already he could hear the sirens in the distance, though they were closing rapidly. Gesturing towards the unconscious forms of the Dursleys he dispelled the shackles around them, and dusted himself off. A mild cleaning charm followed, pressing his suit and shining his shoes, just in time too. Metropolitan Police arrived on the scene brandishing torches and pistols.

"Freeze!" One of the officers shouted. "Identify yourself."

Percival sighed and removed a passbook from his inside pocket. "Metropolitan Police Service SO15 Counter Terrorism Command" He yelled. The officers surrounded him as one approached him and took his credentials. Verifying the contents, they half dragged half carried him away from the scene to a mobile command vehicle, and most importantly to the super in charge. "Sir Percival." He announced.

"Lt. Granger MPS Homicide and Serious Crime." A man responded. He was tall, easily 6'4" with brown hair cropped close to his head, and hazel eyes.

Percival raised a brow in surprise, "What's Homicide and Serious Crime doing here already?"

"We were in the area." The man said cryptically. "What's SO15 doing here?"

"We were in the area." Percival replied back with the same tone. Both men stared at one another for a moment, gears turning in their heads as they assessed the situation and who had command. An almost invisible smirk appeared on Granger's face, but it quickly disappeared. "What's the situation?" He asked ceding authority.

"Suspected terror group. I was conducting a routine investigation, and approaching the house, when it exploded. I rushed in and found the inhabitants unconscious, and the smell of gunpowder prevalent throughout the scene. Amazingly there was barely a scratch on any of them."

"Really…?" Granger trailed off. His BS detector going off like crazy.

"Yes. That is my official statement as well." Percival said. "Now I need you to gather all of the witnesses and your officers and have them look towards the MCV." It saddened him a bit that he had to resort to such methods, but he waved his hand in front of the man's face and cast a mild compulsion charm on him.

"I will gather all the witnesses and my officers, and have them look towards the MCV." Grander responded in a monotone voice.

He couldn't help himself and added with a smile. "These are not the droids you are looking for."

""These aren't the droid I'm looking for."

 _That's the last time I let Kay choose the movie we watch._ He turned his back on the officer, exiting the vehicle. Channeling power into his legs he jumped and landed atop the vehicle. If this didn't get the attention of everyone around, Granger's command did. Still he waited for several minutes before raising his hand and silencing everyone with that single gesture. "Hello Everyone. Metropolitan Police here, I need you all to look towards me." Again he waited until he was sure that most people were looking at him. "Good!' He smirked. "Now. OBLIVIATE!" He commanded slamming his cane into the ground. A wave of magic rapidly expanded in all directions from his position, wiping the recent memories of everyone present.

They all stood there, eyes glazed over, some drooling, which caused him to fear that he may have overdone it and sent them back into childhood rather than wiping the last hour out. "Now here's the situation. The Dursley family was a suspected terror group. MPS came to investigate when the house exploded. The only injuries sustained were minor and no one besides the inhabitants of the #4 Privet Drive was hurt. Lt. Granger is in command of the scene, and I'm nothing more than a simple spokesperson and all questions should be directed to my office." With that he apparated away before they snapped back to their senses. The story he had fed them would work, it was enough for the brain to process and fill in the blanks with believable information, now he had a bigger problem. Approaching the throat of the cul-de-sac was a group of people in robes, under heavy notice-me-not and compulsion charms. Each of the 5 figures brandished their wand with expert proficiency, and was dressed in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement Uniforms, with badges that marked them as obliviators.

As they approached the gathered crowd, he appeared behind them, and erected a powerful combination ward that sealed the space around them. The magic caught the obliviators by surprise as they spun around looking for the source. With a single tap of his cane the ground shook violently toppling them over, and with a second tap earthen shackles enveloped each of the Ministry Employees. Starting with the first, he used Legilimency to invade and pick apart their mind. He scoffed at each of their attempts at Occlumency, his mental probe piercing their barriers with ease.

He did a cursory exam, looking over what their current mission was, and wasn't surprised when their little outburst of magic overloaded some of the more sensitive monitors they had placed around the area.

Having gained sufficient information he waved his hand and the 5 obliviators succumbed to sleep. Another wave of his hand and they were transported to a secure holding facility where members of the Inquisitoria would take turns picking them for information before ultimately erasing and fixing their memory so this never occurred. The only reminder they would have of their interrogation would be a splitting headache alcoholically induced, as they wondered how they ended up naked in the middle of Durham Cathedral.

Smiling at a good day's work he cleaned up the mess that he had made on the street and with a final tap of his cane faded away, no one any the wiser.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: IT'S THE FIRST OF THE MONTH, AND THAT MEANS UPDATE TIME. EXPECT MONTHLY IF NOT BI-WEEKLY CHAPTERS OF AT LEAST 5,000 WORDS

A/N 2: THIS WAS ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO BE TWO DIFFERENT CHAPTER BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO HAVE A CHAPTER OF LESS THAN 4,000 WORDS SO I COMBINED THEM.

Published 9-1-15

* * *

Chapter 3

The Ministry was the first one on the scene, standard protocol called for Aurors to secure an outer perimeter then for obliviators to make any necessary changes to witnesses. So when the shockwave of a magical explosion destroyed all of the areas monitoring equipment, Aurors were already porting in loaded for bear. At the same time the backlash rocked the Ministry to its foundations Albus Dumbledore was exiting a meeting with Minister Bagnold. Toppled over as wild magic coursed through the corridors, by the time that he recovered the first group of Aurors had already left. He made his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, intent on finding out exactly what happened and if needed to offer his help. Catching sight of his friend Alastor dragging his trainee Amelia Bones behind him, he ran to his side.

"Alastor, what's going on?" He asked calmly, masking his anxiety.

Rather than answering Alastor grabbed hold of him and together with Amelia apparated them outside Privet Drive. "Massive explosion, Albus. Magic's gone haywire in this entire area. Before the monitoring equipment melted we had readings that dwarfed anything ever recorded before."

"Oh dear." Albus said recognizing the area that they had apparated to. "Fawkes!"

The majestic phoenix appeared on his shoulder, and immediately began trilling frantically. "Fawkes. Fawkes!" Dumbledore cried, attempting to calm his familiar down.

"What's happening?" Amelia asked, shifting nervously. Never before had she heard of a phoenix acting what she would classify as frightened.

"I don't know." Albus said. "Fawkes keeps warning me away from here. He says the powers that be have made their presence known here." Fawkes landed on his shoulder and began bobbing his head up and down rapidly, trilling nervously. "Fawkes I need you to get the Potters here right now. Can you do that for me?"

A split second later the bird disappeared in a ball of flame moving as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his tail feathers. As they waited for Fawkes' return they assessed the situation. All around them Aurors were scrambling around, erecting muggle repellant wards and barriers to contain the muggles already within the area. Emergency Service vehicles stopped at the perimeter of the ward, drivers suddenly confused as to why they faltered. An outer perimeter war forming as MPS set up a secondary command vehicle. Minutes later Fawkes returned all three Potters clutched in his talons.

"Albus what's going on?!" Lily screamed, her appearance disheveled, her hair smoking in several places whether it was from Fawkes or from Victoria's magic he was unsure.

"I'll tell ya what!" "Alastor spat. "Someone blew up the entirety of a house. There's enough residual magic here to power the wards around the Ministry for months."

The assembled people were dumbfounded at what Alastor was saying. "Surely you're over exaggerating." James scoffed.

"I thought so too." Alastor shook his head holding up a piece of parchment. "Until I read this report from one of the first responders. A seasoned Auror, mind you, cast a simple notice-me-not charm and ignited the residual magic in the air. They're still picking bits and pieces of him up from the area; so far what they've recovered can hardly fill a cup. Many of the newer recruits are going to be traumatized for a while, and they were forced to anchor the magic into stone to contain it."

"What could've caused this?" Lily asked, horrified at what occurred. Meanwhile Victoria was stumbling about, looking at everyone.

Alastor was silent, unsure of how to break the news to the family. "The explosion was magical in nature, as such it could've only come from a person with a magical core. There's only one person that fits that description in the area."

"Who?" Lily's eyes widened as she began to recognize the area. It had been night last time they had come, and she hadn't been able to get a good look at it, but was beginning to piece it together.

"Lily, James; I'm sorry." Alastor said sullenly "But the only magical being anywhere near here was your son, Harry."

She broke down crying, never again would she see her son. She had sent him away to live a full life in muggle world, he'd never be able to wield magic but here he would've found a new life. She had every intention on checking up on him every year, but fate had taken that away.

"Wait a moment." James interrupted, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "How could this have happened? Harry was a squib, he couldn't have caused the explosion."

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." Alastor mumbled.

"What are you saying Alastor?" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"I'm saying that someone made a big mistake. The power of a magical explosion is equivalent to the magic that a wizard possesses, when a breach of their core happens. If the evidence is true then never mind a squib level power, the boy's would've dwarfed your own Albus!" Moody roared.

Amelia, James, Lily, and Albus, were all dumfounded at this statement.

"My son wasn't a squib?" Lily whispered.

"Far from it!" Alastor spat.

"Then why didn't we see any sparks of accidental magic? The boy rarely spoke, and always was distant with us." Albus asked.

"Genius." Amelia whispered thoughtfully.

"Speak up girl!" Alastor said nudging her forward.

"Natural Occlumency." Amelia said. "Similar to Master Occlumens and Legilimens. They always have a tighter grip on their emotional states until they learn how to properly focus themselves. He never displayed any accidental magic because he always had control over it!" She exclaimed.

"That's only a rumor." Albus rebuked.

"Really? Or do you just not want to admit you made a mistake?" Alastor pointed out. "I don't know what sort of tests you did, or if he instinctively concealed his power either way, you were wrong, he's no squib." He reprimanded. The only sound they heard was the quiet sobbings of Lily as the realization and weight of what they had done sank in. "Bah!"

Moody turned his back on the group and hobbled away, Amelia nipping at his heels.

"What have we done?" Lily asked.

"We did what we thought was necessary at the time, using the information we had."

Albus shook his head. "We must move forward now, Victoria needs to be ready so that this never happens again. Grieve, say your goodbyes, and move forward."

This was the wrong thing to say as she wheeled on her former teacher. "Damn you Albus! I've just lost a son because of your stupid mistake! Damn you for making us abandon him." Then she wheeled on her husband beating his chest with her fists. "Damn you James for convincing me to do this. And Damn me for allowing it to happen."

She continued to cry and wail on James until finally she cried, "Victoria." A minute later she held her daughter's hand and with a pop together apparated away.

"She'll calm down eventually." James said sorrowfully.

"For both our sakes, I hope you're right." Albus said. "For all the praise that she receives as a Light witch she is much closer to grey than anyone else I know." He paused. "The need to train Victoria has just risen, she's our only hope now."

"Just about everyone in the country believes him to be dead."

"Not dead, merely banished. He will return one day. Of that I'm certain." They watched as the fired department put out the few remaining fires and smothered the smaller embers. A minute passed before both men apparated away, ignorant of the larger role that Harry would play.

* * *

It was official, he hated Apparition! It felt like he had been crushed into a cube then shot forward in a tube. It made him remember the saying, square peg round hole. You could force something through given enough force, and unfortunately for him he was the square peg in this equation. They landed on what could only be called a beach, Bedivere nimbly hitting the ground on her feet. Unfortunately for Harry he would've face planted into the sand if it were not for her firm grip on his collar. "Okay there?" She grinned. "Trust me fire traveling gets better the more times you do it. By the time you finish your training you'll be able to land on your feet inebriated. It's also dead useful as there are few wards to protect against it.

He looked at the ground around them, startled at its glasslike quality, amazed at the heat that their teleportation had caused. Although he didn't know the exact temperature needed to turn sand into glass he knew that they had definitely exceeded it as all the sand within 100 feet of them had turned to glass. Thankfully though the beach was deserted as far as he could see, and the luscious trees to his left were unharmed. He felt oddly at peace here, on one side a forest and on the other a crystalline ocean that called to him. The only sign of human habitation was a large villa. "Where are we?" He asked.

"My summer home." She responded taking a deep breath of the ocean breeze before releasing it with a contented sigh. "It wasn't originally mine, mind you, but it was gifted to me a few years ago. There are hundreds of multi-layered wards surrounding this island making it impossible to see without being invited. In addition it also keeps away any wildlife and prevents access to all but a select few."

"But WHERE are we?" He stressed.

She paused looking skywards as she thought about his question. "You know when I got this place I never really thought to ask. The man who gifted it to me just handed me a portkey to it, and now whenever I want to come here I just think about it. Flaming isn't like apparition where you need to have exact coordinates lest you end up in a wall, it's more…instinctual. If I had to guess though, I'd say where somewhere near Sicily."

His jaw dropped. He'd never heard of someone traveling that sort of distance in a single apparition. Of course fire travel may be different but even then the power needed to make that sort of jump should've been immense. He was certain that there were only a few that could've done so without depleting the entirety of their magical core to the point it wouldn't be ever fully filled again.

"Anyways now that you're away from those nasty relatives of yours let's see if we can get you back to fighting fit. Heaven knows that you need some more meat on those bones if you want to impress any girls in the future." She smiled at him as she took his hand to lead him to the villa. As he got closer he saw that the villa wasn't one large building as he thought but maybe a dozen or so connected with roofed hallways. The courtyards connecting each of the buildings were open air and tastefully decorated with shrubs cut into different figures or ponds, stone gardens, and one of them even had a tree that provided enough shade that a person could lay under it and drift off to sleep. The buildings themselves were white with pillars of timber and marble acting as support. The roof was made of simple pinkish tiles layered like modern terracotta roofs. There was an elegance in the simplicity of the exterior that mirrored the interior as they stepped into one of the courtyards. Inside of the garden was a gazebo made from bare timbers and rusted irons surrounded by sheer white coverings, which could be closed shut for privacy.

Walking to the center of the gazebo she waved her hand conjuring a black iron table and matching chairs. "Take a seat." She said pulling out a chair for him. He sat down quickly the cold iron biting into his skin even in the heat that surrounded them. She sat across from him, and stared. Her glacier eyes boring into him, carefully observing his every tic, and in a distant part of his mind he couldn't help but relate the feeling to prey being stalked by a predator. Having enough he looked up, meeting her gaze in intensity, refusing to back down. Power swelled from her, as the atmosphere around them quickly rose in temperature. Her strength was immense and staring into it he realized that he was a tiny drop in a massive ocean, compared to her. Still he was stubborn and held his gaze refusing to back down.

For the briefest of moments he thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement before she gave him the smallest of nods. Their little staring contest continued, for how long he didn't know but eventually he was forced to break contact when his body was screaming at him to blink and his eyes were crying for moisture.

Now she was smiling, shaking her head in amusement. "Not bad. Most of the new recruits faint as soon as I unseal my powers. Congratulations! You're one of the only recruits to bear with me unsealing a part of myself for more than 5 minutes, and not be reduced to a blubbering mess or charcoal." She swept her hand to the side directing his gaze to their surroundings. Like when they fire traveled the immediate area around them hand been turned to glass, and the garden around them was still smoking. She snapped her fingers and the garden restored itself to its previous glory. "Normally even fully trained Knights and master occlumens break down from either sensing my power or due to my allure.

"Now that you've passed my entrance test, I feel confident that you can pass the ones administered by the standard proctors." She grinned. "Oh yeah in case you don't remember my name is Bedivere."

"Bedivere," he said slowly. "That not your real name is it?"

"No it's not, but it's the name that was chosen for me when I ascended to my position. Every member of the Council takes the name of one of the Knights that served in Camelot. In welsh tradition Bedivere is known as a knight who used dark magics to seduce and subdue his foes with skill and aggression, and was feared by the common people who often times called for either is hanging or to be burned at the stake. Being a veela as well as a member of the Inquisitoria, Percival thought I would be able to live up to the name, and so far I haven't disappointed." She said proudly. "Maybe one day I'll let you call me by my real name."

"The Inquisitoria?" He asked. "Earlier, when I looked into Percival's mind I saw that word repeated several times. I felt…pride and acceptance in the memories that accompanied the word."

She was silent for a few minutes, mulling over the new information. "You invaded Percival's mind?"

"I guess."

"How?"

"When I felt his mind brushing against mine, I let him see into my thoughts and memories. I thought it was only fair to do the same to him. When I first entered I felt…astonishment. He didn't believe that I would be able to follow the trail that he used to enter his mind. Then afterwards he began to half guide me, half feed me select memories about himself. It's one of the reasons that I'm currently not fighting against what amounted to kidnapping, even if you did get me out of the Dursley's tender mercies."

"You know you don't talk like a kid, it's actually quite refreshing." She grinned. "I find it much easier to talk to mature people than children, one of the reasons that I'm not an instructor."

"Thank you?" He said raising an eyebrow, unsure where she was going with this.

"I mean most people if they had gone through what you did would've broken down. Especially children, in fact that only ones that I'm sure, like you would've survived are several members of the Inquisitoria. So kudos to you."

"Were you expecting my gratitude, because I'm sure that's what most would expect?" He wondered.

She smiled at him patronizingly, "Just from our brief interaction what can you tell me that two of us have in common?"

He thought for a moment before saying, "we're not like most people."

"Exactly. Neither one of us are sheep led astray by a single voice. If you don't mind me asking though what was your plan on getting out of there?"

"Can't you guess?" He smirked.

She glared at him, slightly insulted that he thought she wouldn't be able to figure him out. "Harry, I've been tracking and assassinating people since before your parents were born. So give me some credit."

He threw up his hands in mock surrender, "fine, fine. As you already saw I was able to conjure daggers, I was planning on killing whoever dragged me out of that cupboard be the first to fall. Normally this is Petunia. She normally dragged me by the collar, looking away from me, so that's when I would've struck. One conjured dagger cutting upwards opening the vein on their wrist before I plunged it into her stomach."

"Why not the throat?" She quizzed.

"You've seen how tall she was there was no guarantee I would be able to reach and strike properly." He explained.

"Good answer, though I would've also taken because no murder scene is complete without a good disemboweling."

He stared at her unsure if she was being completely serious. "Moving on, after I dealt with that bitch I would've moved onto the walrus next."

"How? Earlier when I was contemplating killing him I had to resign myself to using either a spear or a damn claymore to get through all that blubber."

"He may have been surrounded by blubber but there are areas where there is none, I was going to conjure a knife and throw it into his eye."

She looked at him skeptically, conjuring a target with identical proportions to Vernon, before animating it. "Prove it."

"You know that it's only about 10 feet away right? Even amateurs could hit at this range." He pointed out throwing a conjured dagger and burying it into Vernon's left eye.

"I know that." She answered, waving her hand lazily as she conjured her own dagger and threw it into Vernon's left eye also. "Throwing knives happens to be one of my hobbies and I make it a point whenever there's a competition and I'm free from work, to participate." She moved the target back 5 yards.

"Really?" He said conjuring another dagger, this time burying it into the target's right eye.

She sighed, grumbling quietly. "Why is it so hard for people to believe that I have a life outside of work? Kay was absolutely dumfounded, not that it would take much considering the few brain cells he has, when he found out that I like to cook." She flung her knife burying it into the target's right eye, and moving it back another 5 yards.

He was quiet as he threw his knife, the blade falling until it buried itself into Vernon's thigh. "T'is but a flesh wound." She smirked, then noticed his surprise. "What? It was a great movie."

Wiggling her fingers the air shimmered in front of her fingers, and then she sunk her hand into the portal, retrieving a runed knife. "Here see if you can conjure this."

It was a simple steel knife, with a small crossguard, a black leather wrapped grip wound with silver, and a standard circular pommel. To him it was nothing that he couldn't conjure within seconds, but it was the runes that ran the length of the blade that drew his attention. He'd look straight at them one moment only to look away and be unable to remember what he saw or anything about the blade. "I can't see them." He admitted after failing to remember for the fifth time.

"I would've been surprised if you could." She said nodding to herself. "Every now and then we've run across a person with the mental fortitude and sight to see them regardless of the protections.

Raising her hand she pointed her finger towards his forehead. "Hadrian, open yourself to the will of magic." she commanded her tone solemn, a blast of magic shooting forth like a lance piercing his skull and quickly expanding until his entire head felt like it would explode. Just as rapidly it came it retreated to leave a dull throbbing in the back of his mind. Looking down at the knife it was as if a fog had been lifted from his eyes. Strange lettering that reminded him of Norse runes, but were unlike any he had ever seen in any of the books he read or his 'mother' worked with. "Those are the runes used only by both Knights and Inquisitors." Bedivere explained. "This first symbol." She said pointing it out to him. "Begins the array, it's purpose is to obscure the following runes. Notice how it flows into the next rune via this marking, by combining the two and allowing the magic to flow continuously the entire array works better. The last rune ends the array and seals it against tampering, such that any attempt to forcibly read it will result in the weapon disintegrating. Now normally you'd have to write out specific instructions for the array, and doing so would result in entire paragraphs worth of runes, to bypass this, while still keeping with the flow and accuracy of the commands, our language uses joint runes."

Flicking her finger a rune appeared in the air, another flick brought forth another rune. "See how these two runes uses the same | stem, but differ in the position of the second stroke, first being a diagonal to the top right corner, followed by an X and the second puts an x on the stem itself followed by a line across. Rather than writing two separate runes we can join them together using the same stem. Then we need to make sure that it flows into the next rune by adding a slight modification at the end. Arithmancy is key here as you need to make sure that once you start pushing power into the rune you won't cause the whole array to explode. This is done by splitting the array in half and balancing them by adding certain strokes that act as areas where excess power can be shunted to and bleed out. This bleed out is commonly used to power a secondary effect or can be put through a filter so that the bleed off is mutated into a physical manifestation. Think the sword being on fire. Now the runes on this knife give it the ability of sureflight, which allows it to defy gravity as well as any winds or magical effects. Because of the size of the array its the only one that could be fitted onto the blade, but since it's pretty much disposable and situation specific we can ignore that. Now watch what I do."

Holding her hand out she brought forth her strength, the sheer power warping the reality around her hand. Another knife appeared, a copy of the one that he himself held, and she channeled her power into the grip allowing the magic to flow through the weapon to power the runic array. "Without power being pushed into the array the runes are just chicken scratch, they require a person's magic to fully activate." She explained, before flicking her wrist, the knife shooting forth in a straight line, burying itself up to the crossguard in the middle of the target's forehead. "Your turn."

Copying her wasn't too difficult, his occlumency skills granting him a familiarity with his magical core, but it was the pushing his magic through his hands and into the knife that was difficult. Gritting his teeth he forced his magic into the knife, only to scream as his hand burned. One moment the knife had been resting in his palm, the next there was a boom followed so closely by another that it was almost imperceptible. The target exploded in wooden fragments, raining shrapnel down around them, stopping within 3 feet and impacting a shimmering shield. She turned towards him, lifting a brow.

"You forced all your magic into it, didn't you." She said, sighing as he nodded dumbly. "Try it again, and this time allow it to flow through you, giving it a gentle nudge rather than strapping a rocket to it and setting off the fuse." The target repaired itself, 25 yards away. Taking a deep breath he opened the floodgates to his power and gave it a gentle nudge guiding it into the array, allowing it to gather like a battery. Sealing his magic back within him, just in time for the array to be fully powered, the knife launched from his hand embedding itself in the target.

"Congratulations." Bedivere said smiling as she clapped. "Let's see if you can keep it up. Left pectoral." Her knife flew true, striking the target exactly where she said. Though it took him a few seconds to conjure a new knife, and a few more to put his power into it, the blade struck true.

"Right arm." He said firing another knife.

She smirked at the ease of the target and just as she was about to fire he said innocently, "Did you know that one of your compatriots thinks you're a psychopathic pyromaniac with a long history of violence and intimidation." He smirked as his comment threw off her concentration for just a second, long enough.

The blade sailed high over the target breaking a window. She turned and glared at him. Making a come hither gesture towards the target, her knife which had previously been within the villa flew back and buried itself into the spine of the target.

"A Sir Kay's words not mine." He could see the smoke coming off her skin, her eyes alight in flames as she turned towards the target unleashing a veritable torrent of flames that consumed everything around them.

"Psychotic?" She screamed launching a spear of flames skywards where it exploded similar to fireworks. "Damn you Kay! When I get my hands on you you're going to regret ever crossing me."

"You didn't deny the other parts that you were called." He said quietly.

"Awareness is the first step towards change and my vice is blood, death, and flames. Does that scare you?"

"Oddly enough, no it doesn't." He responded, aware of his apathy and disregard for life. Now that he thought about it he clearly had problems, but the memories from Percival influenced his current thinking, as he reminded himself that Harry Potter died that night he was dropped off on the doorstep of the Dursley's. Hadrian would delve into the darkest of the dark in order to move forward towards his goal. The problem was that he only had one goal at the moment and that was vengeance for the betrayal he had suffered. Afterwards he was unsure of what to do with his life.

"Good, you'll go far. Now back to the topic at hand after you killed the horse and the walrus what were your plans for the pig?"

"He ate like an animal so I would do him in like one, by slitting his throat."

"You know there are -" She began.

"– Several rituals that use the blood of an enemy to restore one's self." He finished grinning.

She clapped in amazement. "Very good. Only a few people know about that ritual, and fewer still would be audacious enough to try it. I have high hopes for you. Though my opinion may change upon revealing the next part of your masterful escape plan."

"After the Dursleys were dead I would've ransacked the house for valuables and money, and after finding everything that of worth that I could take I would've broken the gas pipe behind the stove and left the house. The following explosion would've taken care of the evidence and forensics would've hopefully seen it as a home invasion gone wrong."

"Not a bad plan but I find gas explosions have become clichéd and overrated. They're less likely to happen now that pilot lights have become obsolete. Maybe in the future I'll teach you how to wire a house so that the electrical causes a fire instead. A key part of your plan I find that you're lacking proper technique is your escape. How are you planning on escaping?"

He was quiet for a few minutes as he wondered how much he could tell her. Finally he decided to go with his gut feelings, which were again influenced by memories of Percival and the feeling of absolute trust he had for the woman in front of him. Sinking within himself he imagined himself twenty years into the future, clenching his teeth as his body morphed itself so that he looked similar to his father.

"HOLY SHIT! YOU'RE A METAMORPHAGUS!" She exclaimed jumping up from her seat. Before she clasped his hands, adopting a face of pleading (read: begging) and saying "You're going to help me right? Please join the Inquisitoria."

It was a face that she had practiced and used thousands of times as a child, puppy dog eyes wide and large glistening with unshed tears, her bottom lip jutting forth just a tad. It was a face that not even the devil would've been able to say no to. Now whenever she made this face men would fall over themselves trying to please her.

"Er…sure." He said taken aback by how she was acting.

She grinned like the cat that got the canary as she pulled summoned a length of high-quality vellum a decorative inkwell, and a quill that seemed eerily familiar to a certain phoenix. "Now how to word this?" She thought swishing the quill back and forth. "First the intro, where we state our names and basic ancestry as well as the purpose for this contract." The quill moved swiftly across the parchment writing out both their ancestry as well as outlining the binding nature of the document. "Then it should clearly state the exchange of service or goods. In this case you're pledging yourself to the Inquisitoria over those dunderhead Knights. In exchange I will…" Here she drifted off as she wondered what she would be able to exchange for his service.

"I got it!" She exclaimed snapping her fingers. "In exchange for your service I will take you under my wing, teach you everything I know beyond the standards, instruct you on the finer points of manners, as well as how to survive the dreaded scourge of every executive position known as paperwork, and best of all I'll show you a certain Forbidden Curse so powerful that if used on an unshielded land mass such as Europe would force the map to be redrawn with some countries dropping out of existence."

"There's such a thing?" He exclaimed.

"Oh yes. Each member of the Council, that is 27 of us know what we refer to as Forbidden Curses. For example my own Forbidden Curse is ritual based invoking hundreds of powerful runic arrays interlocking in a complex formation that would require months of preparation to accomplish properly. When activated it creates a meteor shower over a wide area decimating everything within the targeted zone. I know the last time Percival unleashed his Forbidden Curse to make sure that he was still capable he unleashed an explosion larger than that of the Russian Tsar Bomba that was detonated a little over 20 years ago. While its effects may be weaker than some of ours he makes up for it by being able to cast it only using an incantation with no runic seals and arrays required. Kay's unleashed massive earthquakes capable of being out at sea thus causing land changing tsunamis."

"Next we would need an exit clause." She muttered just barely above a whisper, making sure that the exit clause was written in the smallest print she could such that it bordered on microscopically sized. _No need to make it glaringly obvious. That idiot Kay would probably give up after a cursory glance, though he's sure to be mad when I later tell him that there was an exit clause._

"The final piece is an agreed upon date for the contract to be fulfilled by. In this case your Declaration Ceremony." She finished the final passages with a flourish of the quill, and certified the document with her signature as well as pressing her ring next to it, leaving her seal embedded in the wax. "Your turn." She said handing him the quill.

He took it hesitantly, something above the gleam in her eyes scaring him. "Ummm, I thought I couldn't officiate a document with my signature before reaching my majority?"

Her face instantly fell into depression as she realized that what he had said was true. Then just as suddenly as she fell she rose once again, donning her begging face, as well as adding a hint of steel to her voice. "That is true but, you can sign it and we'll just say that your honor-bound to fulfill it."

"So there are no consequences if I break it?" He asked.

"You would break your word?" She asked, her eyes going wide, hopefully playing to his morals.

Crocodile tears ran down her cheek, her eyes pleading, while on the inside she was congratulating herself on how successful the act was going so far. She could see him breaking down, giving in to the pressure that was expected to him as a man 'raised' in a noble family. No doubt he was regretting having read through the etiquette books for one of his station as well as the standards that he was supposed to strive towards but many ignored. She suppressed a smirk as she delivered the coup de grace. "You'd break your word to a Lady?"

She knew she had him, and with a final sigh, his nervousness and stubbornness leaving him he signed his name of the parchment. As soon as he finished signing she snatched the contract, her tears disappearing as she let loose her power to remove any traces that may have remained. She beamed in triumph as she secured the document in a dimensional vault that only she would be able to access.

"Now I'm sure you have a lot more questions, but I'm afraid that they're going to have to wait. Being honest I'm terrible at answering most questions, so you're better off waiting for Percival to come back." Tapping her finger against the table a plate of sandwiches appeared as well as pitchers of ice water and juice. "Eat, you'll need your strength in the trials ahead."

She took one of the sandwiches finishing it off in a few bites. He waited looking for any adverse effects that would appear from poisoning, and seeing none gingerly picked one up and bit into it. One bite…that was all that was needed to remind him of the malnourishment he had suffered at the hands of his aunt and uncle. Shoving one sandwich into his mouth as his other hand reached for another he began swallowing as fast as he could barely tasting the food. Just as his stomach was about to burst he stopped, leaning back against his chair, and covering his mouth to stifle a burp. After a minute or two passed he reached for the pitcher of juice, it's cool taste akin to the nectar of the Gods. He smacked his lips in appreciation, suddenly feeling drowsy, and looking at Bedivere he saw a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You hag-" was all that he managed before he face planted into the table.

"Cheeky bugger." She laughed, standing up. With a wave of her hand she vanished the table and the chair that she been sitting on. Another wave of her hand and she had him floating behind her as she went into the house. If it were anyone else they might've woken with a headache as she wasn't careful to make sure they didn't hit their head on their walls and doorframes, but this was her future apprentice/brother. At least in her mind.

Humming as she set him down on the bed she went over to her potion lab. Whistling while she worked she brewed several standard potions that she was sure would be needed to get him back to full health. Starting with a powerful vitamin supplement that was 10x more concentrated than the next closest thing. Next she made some bruise salve and skele-grow potions, and finally pepper-up potion that she would be needing at the end. Waving her hand over his body, her ring flashing several different colors the spell analyzed all of the damage that he had received, she had to suppress a growl that threatened to break out.

"This is going to hurt." She apologized, thankful that she had the foresight to mix a powerful sleeping draft, dreamless sleep potion, and pain suppressants into his drink. "Vanescite fracta ora." Closing her eyes she felt the drain on her power as the magic vanished all of his damaged bones. Taking her freshly brewed skele-grow she measured his body weight with a simple spell. "Hmmm, he's a bit underweight, going to have to work on that." She mused, before making her calculations. "About 16 kilos that requires 207ml of skele-grow as an initial starter followed by 100ml every 8 hours until bones are properly grown."

"You're lucky that it's me doing this and not Alia." She said. "Brilliant mind, excellent doctor, if not a bit mad." Waving her hand she conjured a bit of tubing. "She'd probably experiment on you before moving on."

Snapping her fingers his mouth opened and she began to put the tube down into his stomach careful that she didn't lead it into his lungs. "I know this probably isn't proper procedure for orogastric intubation, but I saw it on TV one time and thought about using it on my patients. I've only done it a few times, and it's probably the reason why I'm no longer part of the science division, but you'll live. Any anyways what you don't know won't hurt you…probably." Attaching a funnel to the end of the tube she shivered as she fed him the disgusting potion.

Next she fed him her concentrated vitamin supplement as his body would need all the help it could get to repair itself. After attaching the end of the tube to the edge of his mouth with a minor sticking charm she hovered over him, getting ready for one of the harder parts. With barely a thought her right fingers became talon-like and she sliced open her left palm. Shaking her right hand so that it reverted back she dipped her right pointer finger into the blood pooling in her left hand and using the blood as ink drew several runes on his body. After checking over her work she healed the incision in her palm with a quick burst of magic. With that done she began pouring her power into the runes which acted as convertor changing her concentrated magic that was unique to her to a type that his body could use to speed along his healing as well as to strengthen his magical core.

By the time she finished transferring his power; sweat was rolling off her forehead, as she stumbled towards the table where her pepper-up potions were bottled. Taking double the standard dose, she sighed in relief as steamed poured from her ears and her strength came back to her. She had severely miscalculated as to the size of his core, and if it had been any larger there might've been complications with her trying to refill it. Another sigh escaped her, his core was larger than any other she had seen from a recruit, of that she was sure. The exact figure she was unsure of but if she had to hazard a guess she would've said that his current core rivaled that of a fully mature upper level wizard. It just made her want him even more; she refused to hand over such a powerful person to those Cro-Magnons called knights. She would teach him to wield his power with surgical precision rather that the brute force that they employed.

A small smile broke out as a plan came to mind. If she remembered correctly her sister had a daughter about his age and she was a veela as well. She remembered a Japanese story, Hikari Genji who raised his wife from childhood. While she wasn't about to raise the boy to be her husband after all some years separated them, not that she would ever admit the exact amount. Yet she could raise him into a proper man, yes that could work. While she joked with her fellow Dames about the Knights and their more primitive methods and brains, they were still gentlemen and capable of being chivalrous if she or one of the other Dames put the screws to them. No she would make sure that he was both a gentleman as well as chivalrous. Then introduce him to her nieces, after she was done with him no veela within his age group would be able to resist him. The biological tendencies of her race meant that they always sought the most powerful and influential of men. Her nieces would need a good man to help them weather the discrimination they would face in certain societies.

Now that her strength had returned she left his room, making sure to set an alarm so that she would be able to administer his medicine at the proper time. She had just closed the door when the wards alerted her to someone flaming to her island, and there was only one person who had an open invitation and was capable of landing without being splattered against the wards. Going out to the beach where Harry and her had landed she met Percival with a smile on her face.

"How'd it go?" She asked.

"Fine, fine." He waved dismissively. "Captured a few of the Ministry's DMLE Obliviators for the junior members of the Inquisitoria to work over, hopefully one of them knows something important so that we can update our information."

"Isn't it ironic that we plan on obliviating the obliviators?" She laughed.

"That joke died about two centuries ago." He grumbled moving towards the house with surprising litheness for a man his age and using a cane. Space seemed to bend around them, and in a few steps they were in the main dining room. "How's the boy?" He asked lounging on a couch that would not have been out of place during a Roman feast. She conjured a few pillows for him to get comfortable before reclining across from him, the table between them shrinking to a more personal size for two people.

"Drink first, business second." She said conjuring two goblets and summoning an amphora filled with undiluted and powerful wine and a smaller pitcher of water.

Just as she was about to speak he held up his hand, conjuring a pair of dice "Odds or evens?"

"Evens." She replied with a pout, as he threw the dice rolling a 9. He sighed in relief, last time she was in charge of the drinking she had refused to cut the wine with any water, and this wine wasn't like others with low alcohol content or the so called high of 22%. No this was a homebrew that bordered on 80% potency and was capable of putting a grown man on the floor with ease. He never understood her fascination with drinking the stuff, in his mind it was like drinking rubbing alcohol.

"1:4" He said, waiting for her to properly mix the drink. Even at one part wine to 4 parts water it was still overpowering, and several times had to stop himself from spitting the foul liquid up. "How's the boy?"

"He's fine; I put him to sleep and then vanished the bones that were damaged. I'm force feeding him several potions to counteract any damage that he suffered at the hands of those pigs."

Sighing once more, "Why did you do that already? We have healers that would've properly cared for him, there was no need to concern yourself with him."

She snorted in response. "Don't tell me you were going to leave him to Alia's tender mercies? The woman is like a sister to me, and even I wouldn't want to wake up to her face looming over me. Her sickly complexion from inhaling too many potion fumes as well as her drowsy expression doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Granted she may be the best potion master that we ever had as well as a healer, but with her in change you have a 50/50 shot of getting your real medication and something that she brewed up and you have the unfortunate faith of being her latest guinea pig."

"She's not as bad as you make her out to be." Percival replied, taking another sip from his drink. In his imagination he could hear his brain cells crying out for mercy as the potent liquor drowned them.

"You didn't share a dormitory with her; you didn't grow up randomly waking up in the night to see her approaching you with a loaded syringe and a mysterious potion. There's a reason that the other Dames and myself who grew up with her became master warders so young, it was the only way for us to sleep and feel safe. Though it only worked for a few months at a time as she managed to find weaknesses within our wards and slip through them. This lead to us being light sleepers, those that weren't and were unable to outrun her were used as he guinea pigs."

"You're exaggerating." He said shaking his head. "Dame Alia has my complete trust."

"Tell that to Dame Isiadora she still has nightmares sometimes." Bedivere protested. "Besides you don't really have a say as you've never been on the receiving end of her treatments. Now that I think about it, that's somewhat suspicious! When was the last time you went in for your yearly exam? If the records from the Archivist are correct you haven't been gone in, in 6 years. Funny how it was 6 years ago that Alia took command of the Medical and Science divisions."

"Keep it up, Bedivere, you're not too old for me to take over my knee." He warned.

"As if you could catch me." She grinned, yelping in pain as a bolt of magic hit her from behind. "Stinging hexes, really? What are we 5?" His response was to fire another one clipping her other cheek. "I give!" She cried clutching her arse protectively.

"That's what I thought." Percival said. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah I am too." She replied. "Do you expect me to cook for you?"

"While you're cooking isn't bad per se, I'd prefer something a bit more palatable." He countered. "Shall we flame to the mainland and find something to eat?"

"Yeah I'm in the mood for a rum baba."

"Of course you would be." He said offering her his arm. She took it and together disappeared in a ball of flame.

* * *

Reappearing in front of one of his favorite seaside restaurants, he met the maître-d, who instantly waved them through, no doubt in front of many others who had reservations judging by the angry looks that he was receiving.

"Why are you letting them through?" One person exclaimed, outraged at the preferential treatment. No doubt he'd be singing a different tune if he was being the one let in ahead of everyone else.

To the maître-d's credit the man suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance, but one of the regulars didn't have that control, responding sarcastically. "When you own a controlling share I'm sure they'd let you through ahead of everyone else too."

Meeting them at the table were the Sommelier and the Chef de Cuisine, who explained the night's menu. "I want rum baba for the dolce." Bedivere commanded. The chef didn't even bat an eye at her request, having become accustomed to her eccentricities. He left to prepare the meal, and after the Sommelier explained the proper wine pairings left to do his duties.

Before they began to talk Bedivere removed a small stone from her pocketbook and placed it on the table. The stone, the size of her palm, had the rune for silence etched into it, and with a tap of her finger erected a ward around them that would prevent anyone from listening in. He nodded his thanks before leaning back in his chair and relaxing. "So, how have you been?"

"Pretty much been the same, can't really complain about anything new. My trainees are idiots who wouldn't understand subtlety even if I forcibly shoved it into their minds. The Inquisitoria is suffering from a lack of funds. I'm going to have to start authorizing strike missions so that enemy assets can be seized, and so that the trainees can get some practice in."

"And your ongoing feud with the Knights?" He asked with a raised brow.

She waved her hand dismissively, "all in good fun. I replaced some of the Knight Initiates' sword oil with a corrosive liquid that eats through metal and leaves pits in it. As for my good friend Kay I etched a time delayed ward around his doorframe so that when he leaves his room in a few days all his hair will fall out."

"That seems tame compared to some of the other things that the two of you have done to each other."

She smiled sadistically. "The hair is going to be plucked off, and he's going to feel it all in a single moment."

"You mean-?"

"Yup, every strand of hair he has is simultaneously going to be plucked off. Granted nothing is going to stop him from going to Alia and getting a hair growth potion, but the same thing will happen every time he enters his quarters."

"Tell me what the point of doing something like that is?"

"I want to see if it's possible to train him, and using negative reinforcement seemed like a good idea to get it done. By the end of it I hope to have trained him to check everything before he enters a room."

"Why can't he just move to a new room?" She gave him a pointed look, insulted that he would think that she wouldn't account for that. "You etched it into all the doorframes didn't you? I hope you remembered to key the ward so that it only activates to his magical signature and only if he is the only one within the doorframe."

"Of course." She said proudly. She was about to continue when he held up a finger silencing her. The sommelier returned with a chilled bottle of wine as well as a plate with several small aperitivo of olives, assorted cheeses and little quiches. Departing after pouring the wine and leaving it chilling be their table, he motioned for her to continue.

"And how have you been? Running an organization as large as ours must be tiresome, especially at your age." She said managing to suppress the smile that was forming.

He glared at her, "Just because I'm older than any two or three of you youngsters put together doesn't mean that I'm not as spry as I was when I was your age."

"Only two or three? Correct me if I'm wrong but weren't you around when Vesuvius went boom?"

"I'll assume you're not trying to insult me by saying that I've been around since before the Roman Empire fell. But yes I was around for the last eruption. 1872 if I remember correctly, I was still a strapping young lad with long locks of hair, already a knight at the time. When it went boom some of us stupidly decided to test each other's bravery by seeing who could get the closest to the crater. Several of us spent time at the outer edges before moving in closer and closer, until we were practically sitting atop the damn thing. Let me tell you, our shield spells never took a beating like it did that day, when several of us went dragon hunting we were sorely disappointed at their flames when compared to sitting atop an actively exploding volcano. I remember your father when we did that, boy was he scared. I swear the lad was pissing his pants, not that any of us could tell, the heat probably evaporated it before it could form a stain, but still he held his ground. No even crazier, the bastard went to the middle of the crater and dove in bellowing Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen at the top of his lungs. It was probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen, and without a doubt the craziest thing I've ever seen from a squire."

Some other people might be insulted at the memory of their father pissing himself, but she wasn't like others, she had grown up with the craziness that surrounded the Order. She was proud of the fact that even in fear her father didn't retreat, instead charging forward. They were silent for a few minutes, as the waiter returned to take their dishes and to lay out the antipastos, an assortment of salumi, cheeses, and bruschetta. "It's a damn shame what happened to your father." He started sadly. "We fought together in the trenches as the German war mages stormed across Europe killing with impunity. We survived that, lived through the years until we were called back into service against Grindelwald. The two of us survived that nightmare, and the inferno that was the counterattack on Japan. I honestly thought your old man would outlive me. It's a tragedy, he deserved die on his feet shield and sword in hand, not in a back alley mugging. He was the best squire I ever had, one of the bravest Knights that I've had the honor of knowing, and a great friend."

"He wasn't always there for me." She began. "I didn't understand why and as a child I resented him. It was only after I joined the Inquisitoria and gained access to his case files that I began to understand him. Why when he was home for me he was withdrawn, the pain that flitted across his eyes. Sometimes I would come home from school and see him in his room crying softly while holding a picture, a picture that he carried with him always."

"Colette." Percival stated simply.

"Yes my mother." Bedivere replied. "You know he never talked about her, what her duties actually were I didn't learn about her until I ascended to my current position. The things that she had done…the bloody battles she fought alone in response to the call…they still send shivers down my spine."

Silence took hold, as both remembered the things that Colette had done to preserve the values that their Order had been founded upon. In the meantime the antipastos were removed and the first course brought forth, a simple plate of creamy risotto with mushrooms, shrimp, and parsley. They ate slowly, savoring the food and the atmosphere, it was rare for their schedules to match and even rarer for them to be able to relax. For some the silence would've been uncomfortable but for them it was companionable, no words were needed to convey their feelings or mood. After the primo the secondo was brought forth, impepata di Molluschi, shellfish fricassee, which set their taste buds alight.

After the secondo was pulled away they resumed their talk, this time switching to more a more serious topic. "Bedivere," he began. "What's with your sudden fascination with the boy?"

She was quiet for a few minutes as she pondered her response. "I don't know." She replied honestly. "There's something about him that's calling to me. Granted it's not very strong, and it's not calling to me like a mate would, but still my veela nature is intrigued. Though he may be young my powers are stirring in response, in anticipation for when he reaches his maturity."

He sighed in relief, thankful that it wasn't a Veela Mate bond that was forming. "So is that why you're acting like his mother?"

"Sister." She stressed. "If I were his mother I wouldn't be thinking about doing what I'm thinking."

"And what are you thinking about?" He asked.

"Portkeying him and my nieces to a deserted island when they're of age and not rescuing them until a bond forms." She replied slyly.

He could only stare at her in disbelief, as she continued to outline her master plan. "Of course first I need to make sure that he's raised properly, instilling discipline and nobility into him. Then as soon as he's old enough I'm going to continually blast him with my Allure at full strength until he becomes immune to it. Eventually I'll turn him into the perfect mate for both my nieces, and present him to them when they're old enough."

His disbelief quickly morphed into a realization that the woman he thought of as a daughter was a bit disturbed. "Of course treating him no better than breeding stock is a contingency plan, my main goal is to turn him into the best, and for that I'm requesting to be part of the trainers for his Initiate group."

"You understand that if you join as one of his instructors the group you're going to be entrusted with as well as your fellow teachers are all the company you will have for 8 years right? I can't imagine you'd want that." He pointed out. _More like I can't imagine you staying with the same group for 8 years and having them all pull through alive. You're more likely to kick one off a cliff to test whether they were paying attention to your lessons or not._

"I need to do this. There's something about the future that's troubling and I have a feeling that Hadrian is going to play a large part in shaping the future."

"I didn't realize that you put any stock in Divination."

"I don't but even I can sense war is on the horizon. In my dreams I can hear the beating of drums calling us to arms, the clashing of steel and shouting of spellfire. An ocean of blood threatens to drown all without distinction." The final vestiges of the secondo were taken away replaced with a plate of burrata and fresh fruit.

They picked at their individual dishes Percival digesting her dreams, while Bedivere idly thought about the useless group of Dunderheads that would be part of her 'brother's' initiate group. Oh well she'd suffer through them, after all sacrifice was required for the greater good. She was shaken out of her thoughts when the smell of her dessert reached her nose.

Percival could only shake his head in amusement as his ward's eyes lit up when her dolce was brought to the table. It wasn't even a small and elegant cake instead it bordered on the size of a loaf of bread. He turned his own attention to his plate of zeppole and the chocolate sauce that he would've been yelled at for eating by a doctor if he ever bothered to see one. After all at his age he lived every day like it was his last. Sipping at his espresso he popped the last of the zeppole into his mouth, and waited for his ward to finish her meal.

Life was going to get very interesting, of that he was sure. Hopefully tomorrow Hadrian would be awake and recovered from whatever foul concoction Bedivere forced down his throat. Everything would be explained to him, and then the next day he would be presented to the Queen. He had high hopes for the boy's future considering his wandless and silent conjuring of swords and daggers. Unlike the ones he had conjured during his birthday party the ones he had done at the Dursley's were not rune inscribed. What was really interesting was his ability to create precious gems, if the gemstones were tested and found to be more than simple conjurations it would allow them to corner the market on precious stones. This would go a long way especially if his hunch proved true to the boy's heritage, something that would need to be tested soon. Just another thing for them to do.

Hearing the contented noises his ward was making snapped him from his reverie. "How was it?"

"As good as always." She smiled. "I love how Jean-Paul doesn't even bat an eye at my requests anymore."

"Probably because you provided the capital to get this place started."

She shrugged her shoulders; her return on investment assured that she had money to burn, and buying even a dozen or so similar restaurants would not hurt her pocket book. "It was a good investment at the time, and I knew he wouldn't fail me."

"You've always had an eye for talent." He commented waving the waiter over to indicate he needed a refill on his espresso. "Probably the reason why you're Barony does do well for itself."

"Why thanks." She beamed. With the end of their meal he pushed his chair back and stood, offering her his arm as they departed the restaurant. As soon as they entered an alley they fire traveled away heading back to her home.

"Will you be staying the night?" She asked as they entered her sitting room.

"Please,' He responded reclining in his favorite wingback chair, and putting his feet atop the ottoman that served as a foot rest. It was a simple piece of furniture that hid the fact that it cost more than what some people would make in a year.

"Cigar?" she asked, offering him a wide selection.

"Oh my dear daughter you know my weakness." He smiled taking the proffered treat. Cutting it with a V-cutter he put it in his mouth, as she smiled conjuring a tiny wisp of veela fire that she used to light it. Taking a few puffs, savoring the taste of it, he tilted his head up and let loose a steady stream of smoke. "You know, I can imagine the fit that your mother would be making if she knew you were using your powers like you do."

She laughed. "She'd probably say something about disgracing our proud heritage by using our abilities to do something so menial and trivial. Then I'd probably counter with something along the lines of embracing your heritage and using my abilities whenever possible. If I were you I'd be more worried about her dropping the hammer atop your head when she finds out that you've taken to smoking those cancer sticks once more."

He waved his hand dismissively, "Your mother no longer frightens me. Besides she'd be a hypocrite if she said anything about smoking, she was puffing on that cigarette holder of hers when she was barely a teen. You're father escorted her to the opera one night and I remember that in addition to full length opera gloves, she conjured a cigarette holder that must've been a foot and a half long. And if anything your mother is more annoyed with the fact that you've run away from your duties on the Veela High Counsel."

"Bunch of stuffy broads." Bedivere grumbled. "Every time my mother brings something about them up I make it a point to disappear posthaste."

"You can't keep shirking your other duties, Bedivere." He pointed out.

"They should just give the burden to my sister, sometimes I hate being older than her by a few minutes."

"Nothing can be done about it now, so just grit your teeth and take it. Between your duties as Head of the Inquisitoria, a Baroness, and a prospective member of the Veela High Council, are you sure that you want to join Harry's Initiate group? You'll be busy training them for 5 years real time."

"5 years?" She raised a brow at his sentence.

"5 years." He repeated. "Instead of 4-7 like you suggested I want you to train them from 4-8, then from 8-11 he'll serve as a page, before squiring under a Knight or Inquisitor from 11-18 where he'll take his final vows and be awarded his Knighthood."

"So 10 year in the bubble? Any suggestions for what you want me to do with those two extra years you've bought me?"

He was quiet for a few moments before he summoned a ream of parchment. A quick cutting charm and a few moments with a quill in his hand passed before he handed the parchment over to her. She quickly looked it over blanching at the words written on the paper. "Am I reading this correctly?" She exclaimed, and at his nod slumped in her seat.

"You're really granting me a dispensation to teach him the Knight runic language, the secret creation of Mithril, and finally should he prove powerful enough a chance to teach him beyond standard Class VII magic up to and including Class XIII Forbidden Curses? Mastering our Runic Language is a requirement for promotion to a mid-tier knight or junior inquisitor, learning how to create Mithril from scratch is grounds for promotion to tier-three Knight or an Inquisitor. Finally casting a Class XIII Forbidden Curse successfully without dying is an automatic promotion to Great Knight or High Inquisitor, of which there are only 27 of us."

"I know." Percival said grinning, hoping that she would catch on to his plan; his brilliance was unrewarding unless someone else was there to comment on his schemes.

She digested the information for a few moments before stating her conclusions. "You want him to the lead an Inquisition of Britain, don't you?"

"Yes, more specifically Hogwarts. The Head of the Inquisitoria would have command over the larger nation itself but I want Hogwarts to fall under his governance."

"If you do this he'd be the youngest to ever attain the rank of Inquisitor."

"Really? I thought with your skills he'd be a shoe in for attaining the rank of High Inquisitor or Great Knight." He replied.

"I may be able to impart all my skills and give him everything I know, but when it comes to the Forbidden Curses." She paused shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm not a miracle worker. Mastering a Forbidden Curse is almost impossible, though no one knows the reason as to why some fail and others succeed. There's a reason why there are only 27 of capable of using a forbidden curse throughout the entire world."

"I have faith in you." Percival assured.

"No promises." She remarked. "However him being able to cast a Forbidden Curse is far into the future, he has to make it through basic training and the initiation that I plan on putting the recruits through."

"On that note may I suggest we retire for the night? Hopefully come the morning Harry is not only verbal but full awake as well."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

AN: Sorry about the delay, between power fluctuations from Hurricane Joaquin as well as a beta who never sent me corrections this got delayed, but the good news is that this is almost 10,000 words. Be aware this hasn't been beta'd so be sure to send me any corrections. Also not much is happening here, but next chapter many things will be revealed including more information about the Order. Please review, I need feedback and am wondering if I should go in depth into the training that Harry will receive of if I should to a time-skip and cover the training via flashbacks.

Published 10-13-15

* * *

"Uhhh. My head." Harry groaned, clutching his forehead. His entire body was wracked in pain such that it felt as if someone had beat every inch of him with a hammer, before flaying his muscles from him bones and then lit him on fire for shits and giggles. Not even after Vernon's worst beatings did he feel like he did now. He opened his eyes screaming as the light assaulted the sensitive nerves, before shutting them once more. This time opening them slowly, he took in the room that he was in, more importantly the softness of the bed that he was laying on. He found himself snuggling under the covers taking comfort in the warmth, something that he had forgotten during his stay at the Dursleys.

Thinking back on the fate of the Dursleys filled him with both a sense of elation and disappointment. Elation in that he no longer had to suffer to be in the same room with the tub of lard that they called a son and the overweight monstrosity that was Vernon. Even better was the fact that he never had to see Vernon's sister, Marge ever again. Her dog had dared to attack him, a mistake it would never make again. How he had enjoyed it when he punted the bulldog into the street where it was promptly hit by a car. In any other household the dog would've been put down for attacking a person, but with the Dursleys he ended up being punished for defending himself. The punishment was well worth it, he smiled to himself as he remembered his Aunt's hysterical crying over her poor Ripper. As if naming the dog Ripper wasn't going to cause problems by itself.

Just another reason why he had planned on escaping their clutches before his plans had been interrupted by Bedivere and Percival. That was where his disappointment came in, they had prevented him from doing his family any harm, and in his mind he was completely justified in wanting to punish them. They had swiftly been punished with nasty curses courtesy of his saviors but it wasn't the same as sinking steel into flesh. Now that he thought about it his Aunt Petunia never let him handle a knife, not even a butter knife. _Probably prolonged their life too._ He mused. _Enough reminiscing. Today marks the birth of the new me. Harry died with the Dursley's, from now on I am Hadrian._

The memories that he had seen in Percival imparted a sense of pragmatism and cynicism, a view on how the world really worked. The man followed his own code of conduct, carefully based on the old ways of chivalry but expanded to meet the demands of the 20th century. That would be the example he would follow until he could sculpt his own code, a warrior's code. Sitting up on the bed he closed his eyes preparing himself to go through his morning exercises, a way to calm and focus his mind for the trials that the day would bring. First he emptied his thoughts, until he was filled by a cold void, and if the books he had read were correct it would impart a feeling of dread upon any legilimens who lightly probed his thoughts. Diving deeper within himself he encountered his outermost shields, strategically weakened in certain points to force a probe towards traps or false images. Meanwhile breaking past the first barrier would cause the shield to collapse inwards trapping a probe like a bear trap. If someone managed to slip past that trap they would experience several more shields of varying thickness and different traps before stumbling upon his main mindscape an ancient battlefield dotted with stone burial cairns each rising to about the waist of a man. Embedded into each of the cairns was a sword, each sword differing from the one beside it, no two swords the same. Some were pristine as if they had just been forged others chipped and scratched having seen the rigors of combat, there were simple swords and ornate ones, historically designed blades and fantasy blades whose shape and dimensions would be unwieldy at best and dangerous to the user at worst. Each cairn represented a memory and the swords were the key to what memory it was as well as the lock that prevented a person from accessing it without his permission. For just as there were mythical swords of good there were cursed blades that drove the holder to evil or madness, and it was these accursed blades that he used as traps for his main mindscape. Finishing the cataloguing of the events that transpired yesterday he smiled as the burial cairn was raised over the memory and he embedded an ornamental borderline gaudy blade into the cairn, a marker for a special and happy memory, possibly fuel for the patronus that he had read about in his family's library.

Exiting from his mindscape he rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck before sitting positioning himself in seiza something that he had become accustomed to during his stay in the cupboard under the stairs, and was also a position for him to concentrate himself. Hands extended, palms upwards at a 45 degree angle, he loosened his hold on his power allowing it to flow into his hands.

From the shadows Bedivere watched as a solid mass of magic flowed into the space between his hands, a smile forming thankful that her 'brother' wasn't going to be a complete dunderhead.

He could've conjured a dagger in a split second, but now he was drawing the process out carefully going through the form that would ensure his skills stayed sharp. First he conjured several blocks of steel and nickel each of varying hardness, and split them into smaller sections that he stacked on top of each other. The image had come to him last night, and the magic was jumping at the idea eager to put form to his dream. Once the sections were on top of each of other he slowly poured his power directly into the stack heating the block with one hand while the other hand circled over it, pouring conjured sand on it to help remove foreign materials and protect the material. Once the entire stack was red hot he grabbed each end in his hand and starting small drew his hands further and further apart, to form a billet of steel. Once the entire billet was about 2 feet long he folded it upon itself and compressed it before reheating it. Again and again he repeated the process until after 100 times he stopped and drew the billet out one final time. Heating the entire billet until it glowed a cherry red he twisted it upon itself and then applied pressure so that he would end up with a rectangular bar in the rough shape that the blade would take, a leaf shaped blade. Holding the tip in his right hand and the portion where he would create the tang in his left he heated the left until it reached the proper temperature. Squeezing that section he created the shoulder where the quillion would be and squeezed everything behind that shoulder to equal dimensions. Once this was done he made a second shoulder below the first and began working on drawing out the tang of the blade. For the blade itself, after heating it up he formed the bevels by pinching the edges and running his hand from heel to tip as well as forming the fuller that ran the middle of the blade. Nodding to himself in satisfaction he conjured the crossguard/quillion which was a simple affair with tips that gently curved upwards reminiscent of a sai. He dry fit the crossguard and after ensuring that it fit properly removed it so that he could temper and harden the blade. After which he began his polishing and grinding to put an edge on the weapon. Then came the crossguard which fit snugly and finally the grip which he created from conjured mother of pearl, and finally he screwed a simple circular pommel into the bottom to hold the entire affair together. Holding the weapon in his hand he carefully examined it for any fault, smiling to himself at the various patterns on the blade that came about from the different metals used as well as from the folding and twisting of the metals. Now that he had seen it properly he saved a picture of it to his mind, a sense of understanding appearing now that he had held a true version. Closing his eyes he held out his right hand and conjured a copy of the weapon perfect in every way to the original.

 _So that's your power._ Bedivere mused recognizing the skill that he had exhibited as more than a simple conjuration, a skill that only one other member of their Order had. _It's amazing that he managed to get to this stage by himself. Ivaldi only reached this stage after carefully studying the ancient manuals passed down from our master smiths. The question is if he has the same exact skill or if it's an offshoot that has been changed over time._ She stepped out of the shadows, making her presence known, though a tick did appear on her forehead when her charge did not acknowledge her presence. She was about to call his name, when she hesitated catching sight of his emerald eyes, staring off into the distance. He sat there, a vacant expression on his face, and she watched quietly not ready to draw him out of his trance just yet. Unfortunately that was broken when Percival entered the room stumbling around as he attempted to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes.

Harry turned his head towards the newcomer, tilting it slightly as he adopted an inquisitive expression. Percival yawned into his hand, his face scrunching up as the last vestiges of last night's rest were shed. Afterwards he greeted Harry, with a smile on his face. "Hello Harry."

"Hadrian." He corrected, to Percival's surprise. "Harry Potter died that night he was left on the stoop of the Dursley's. My name is Hadrian."

"Very well…Hadrian." Percival corrected, bowing his head at his mistake. "How was your night?"

"Different." Hadrian began. "On one hand it was the most sleep that I have gotten in over a month, and on the other I woke up feeling as if someone had beaten every inch of me with a hammer."

"Anything else? Blurred vision? Loss of bowel control? Hallucinations coupled with delusions of grandeur with the sudden and inexplicable urge to go forth and conquer?" Percival asked.

"Um…no?" He stated hesitantly unsure where he was going with this exactly.

Percival nodded his head several times, meanwhile Bedivere looked like she wanted nothing more than to run out the room, her face red from embarrassment. "Good. Very good. It seems like you haven't suffered any side effects inherent in most who have received treatment at the hands of Bedivere."

They ignored his gobsmacked expression as Percival congratulated Bedivere on a job well done. "And you doubted me." She preened.

"Congratulations! With this case your viability in healing has risen to about 1 in 4 suffering no side effects." To Hadrian this wasn't anything to be proud of, and was thanking Magic that he didn't suffer any ill effects at her hands.

"Now that we're all awake why don't we head to breakfast."

"Yeah, we're going to need all the energy we can get in order to get through everything today. I'm feeling American, I know this quaint little diner in NY that's open 24/7 and they serve a killer breakfast." Bedivere commented, before looking Hadrian over with a critical eye. "But first we need to get you out of those rags so that I can burn them. Magic knows where they've been, but I'll probably have to sterilize that bed and the room with fire to make sure that you didn't bring anything with you. Which reminds me." She said pulling out a large and ominous looking syringe. "We need to inoculate you against the standard Mundane ailments. Later on Alia can go through your system more thoroughly and tailor a cocktail to cover everything, but in the meantime this should do nicely. Now this won't hurt a bit."

He gasped and grit his teeth as she shoved the needle into his arm. "I thought you said it wasn't going to hurt."

"Doctors lie." She said simply.

"Would it have killed you to cast a localized numbing charm?" Percival asked raising an eyebrow.

"It slipped my mind." She said innocently. "Now let's get you out of those rags." With a flick of her fingers she conjured a conservative black suit for him, similar to what Percival was currently wearing as well as socks and shoes. Then poking him once in the chest transfigured his shirt into a white button down shirt, and conjured a solid bright teal tie with diagonal striping of gray centered with alternating thick bands of black and thin lines of green. "Here I'm sure you don't need my help to get dressed."

They left him alone in the room holding the various articles of clothing, as he gathered his resolve. The old Harry would never have dressed like this, and as Shakespeare once said, 'clothes make the man', and he was a new man today. Putting on his new socks followed by the comfortable black pants, he tied his shoes next. Black leather brogue oxford shoes with a wingtip design that he was sure would've cost a fortune on the Mundane market. Tying his tie next he brought the collar down making sure to smooth down his shirt before he put on the vest which was plain white in color. After buttoning the vest he put on the double breasted jacket, a heavy affair of wool and silk with peaked lapels. Without a mirror he did his best to smooth down his hair, before he took a deep breath and opened the door to his new life.

Bedivere was the first to see him, as she held up her hand and gestured for him to spin around. She whistled appreciatively, "not bad at all."

"Really?" Percival asked, vanishing his tie and replacing it with a teal cravat. "Much better." He nodded approvingly.

"A cravat is too old for him." Bedivere commented.

"It'll be fine." Percival commented flicking his finger at Hadrian's vest shifting its color to match that of the cravat. "You can't go wrong with this color combination." He explained.

"Coloring aside, it's hard to deny the fact that you clean up nicely. Now NY is about 6 hours behind us if I remember correctly so it'll be about 4 in the morning. The plan is for us to catch breakfast in the Big Apple, then we should get you checked out by Alia. You'll need time to recover after suffering through her tender mercies so it's going to be an early night for you. Tomorrow if you're fully healed we'll take you before Her Majesty the Queen where you'll tell your story and your final fate will be decided."

"It seems like I've got no say in anything." He grumbled.

"It's not like we're forcing you into anything. You need to eat, and Alia will be inoculating you against diseases, something that would've happened if you were given to any proper family. The meeting with the Queen is an honor that you should be proud of. She'll explain her ideas, and we'll fill in the blanks. Should you decide that you're not agreeable to our plans then we'll release you into a proper family unlike those Dursleys." Percival explained, holding out his hand, hoping that Hadrian would take it.

He thought about it for about a minute and saw no other course than to go with them for now. After all he had no idea where they currently were, no idea on the culture, nor if it was even possible to swim to mainland should he flee from them. Reaching out he grabbed Percival by the arm, catching Bedivere smiling warmly as they fire traveled across the world to New York City.

 _Maybe there is something to that age old adage to learn from experience._ He thought ruefully.

Where Bedivere's fire travel was rough and felt like someone was using him as a drill bit, Percival's was much more smooth. There was no discomforting feeling of being compressed and shot along at breakneck speeds that was expected from apparition. Instead it felt as if the entire world moved underneath them, folding in on itself like an accordian such that in a single step he crossed thousands of miles. In his opinion it made for a much more comfortable ride.

One second they had been on an unplottable island the next they were in the middle of Manhattan, it's streets unnaturally quiet for the time.

"Massive redirection ward." Bedivere explained catching his puzzled expression. "This entire area is known to be used by magicals around this time and they would prefer not to have to mix with Mundanes unless necessary. It's also one of the areas designated by the American Ministry for students to practice their magic freely from 00:00-06:00."

He nodded in understanding. "So where are we going?"

"Well Bedivere has this dive bar, grill and diner that she prefers to unwind at after missions." Percival explained moving away from their flame-in site.

"They serve the best breakfasts." She grinned. Hadrian pointedly ignored the look of desire in her eyes and the slight watering of her mouth.

The diner that he was brought to was a classic representation of the American 80s diner. A large countertop with red leather bar stools, stainless steel panels prominently hung on the interior of the building. A single circular analog clock hung on the wall behind the cash register, its edges trimmed in neon green lights. A dozen or so booths lined the walls, and next to the door was a rack with menus. Bedivere lead them to a booth in the corner far enough away from the main doors that a person would have to run at them to reach, and two large windows on either side. Not that there was any other customer there that early.

Sitting down, she waved her arm, getting the attention of one of the waitresses'.

"What can I get for you today?" The waitress asked, pen and pad poised to take their order.

"5 hungry man breakfast meals, 2 of them with bagels with cream cheese and jelly, and scrambled eggs, 3 of them with buttered white toast, homefries for all of them, a large pot of your dark home brewed coffee and a pitcher of apple juice." Bedivere said primly, ignoring the look of amazement on the waitress' face.

"Uh…" The waitress was dazed for a moment, but showing the mark of a professional, quickly recovered. "That'll be right out." She scurried off to the kitchens, another waiter appearing to pass out glasses of water and distribute utensils.

No one spoke as minutes past by, Bedivere humming to herself as she inspected her nails, Percival reading through a folder, the words impossible for him to read as they were in another language, and Hadrian was once more withdrawn, a blank look on his face as he worked on his occlumency. He sat in the middle of the battlefield on an iron throne, holding a sword by its pommel, its tip pressed into the dirt, spinning it in contemplation, as he sorted through the memories he had acquired from Percival. In addition to his struggles and tribulations, the clumsy legilimency he had launched had seen several of the defenses that Percival used to shield himself, and it was these that he wished to incorporate into his own mindscape. One of the things that the man had done was to subdue a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon, shattering it's mind and transplanting it into his own to act as a guardian against intrusion. From then on he had been able to call upon the dragon's aid by using its bones as a catalyst in conjunction with earth and iron to give it shape. Needless to say that it was something that he was keen on learning how to do, though he had was going to start smaller, maybe a snake would do. Withdrawing from those memories he looked over his mindscape, reveling in the feelings that flooded through him. In here he was safe, in here he was God. The burnt orange sky, the few white clouds that blotted the heavens, the smell of iron and fire, everything exactly how he wanted it to be. With naught but a thought the entire world shifted underneath him, until a single cairn lay in front of him. Getting up, he strode to the marker and withdrew the sword that marked the memory, staring into the polished blade as he lost himself in remembrance.

Time passed differently in a mindscape than it did in the real world. Putting down the reports that he had been perusing Percival looked to see his newest charge, lost within himself, his hand moving in what would ordinarily seem as random patterns. To him however the movements were one that he himself had done countless times. The boy was drawing runes used for their weapons, and that meant only one thing. Internally sighing to himself whilst cursing brash and reckless subordinates he caught the eye of Bedivere and proceeded to give her a withering gaze, that caused her to recoil in shock. He had perfected the look when he was an instructor and it never failed to convey his thoughts to the poor initiate he turned it on. This particular one thoroughly conveyed his displeasure driving home the rhetorical question, "are you stupid?" She wilted under his glower, happy when he diverted his attention back to Hadrian, watching to make sure that he was properly inscribing the runes. _Not bad._ He thought. Normally there was an order to the strokes, not only to aid in memorization but also because the magic needed to be balanced, the downside of their runic system was the fact that it was so volatile, like a new puppy ready to play. All it needed was one misplaced stroke and the entire array or seal would go boom. Either Hadrian had the luck of the devil or he had some sort of instinctual connection with magic that allowed him to maintain the balance. Nowhere in his mind did the thought occur that Bedivere might have shown him the stroke order.

He was drawn from his musing when the waitress returned, a second waiter trailing in her wake, both struggling to bring the massive order to the table. Temporarily putting the order to the side the waitress dragged over a second table to accommodate all the food. "Anything else I can get you?" She asked, slightly out of breath.

"No I think that's it for now." Percival said silencing Bedivere with a single glance. Waiting until the waitress departed he turned his head back to Hadrian and gently launched a legilimency probe. Stopping just outside of his barriers he knocked on the invisible wall before mentally screaming, " _pack it up! Food's here."_ Then he withdrew from his charge's mind and settled into eating his meal.

Hadrian left his mindscape, and noticed the nod Percival sent in his direction when he shivered as the sensation of the outside world returned to him. On the inside Percival was smiling as the boy obeyed and answered his call on the first try. Normally it took a few weeks and countless hours scrubbing toilets and digging latrines before raw recruits learned to follow his orders. Looking down at his meal he took a deep breath savoring the smell that was akin to heaven in his mind. A large platter of food, 3 eggs scrambled several rashers of bacon, 3 links of sausage, several slices of thick cut country ham a mountain of crispy potatoes and a stack of white toast glistening with butter lay in front of him ready to be devoured. Pouring himself a glass of juice he dug into his meal with gusto, occasionally glancing at his dining companions. Percival ate slowly and methodically occasionally stopping to read over a report, whilst Bedivere devoured her food with ruthless efficiency, grace and speed, her fork and knife in constant motion. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from falling in amazement, as food seemed to disappear in record time, already she was starting on her second plate when he was barely halfway into his first. Turning his attention back to his own food he concentrated on that, only looking back several minutes later to see Bedivere patting at the edges of her mouth with a napkin, both platters as well as the accompanying toast and pancakes finished, the plates that they had rested on sparkling clean. The pot of coffee was in her free hand, pouring the sludge like drink into an oversized mug.

She saw the disdain for the drink in his eyes, as she smiled and raised her mug in a toast before throwing her head back and gulping the foul liquid down. "Strong enough to wake the dead." She explained, her eye twitching slightly, as the caffeine worked its way through her body. "I always keep a thermos of this stuff under stasis charms for when I'm on long missions." Pouring a second smaller cup of it she pushed it towards him. "Try it, it'll put hair on your chest."

He turned to Percival looking for some sort of help, but the man's face was hidden behind an open newspaper. Feeling her stare begin to bore a hole through him he sighed and tentatively picked up the mug sniffing it. Immediately the powerful smell overwhelmed his senses, the hot air searing his nasal passages, as he spluttered, thankfully not spilling any of the potent liquid. _This is pure caffeine!_ He swore sticking his tongue into the mug and quickly lapping it up. Even that small taste was too much, as he felt his body reacting to the sludge. Coughing and retching violently he managed to put the cup back onto the table before scrambling for the water. He gulped the icy liquid down by the cup attempting to wash away the foul drink that didn't deserve to be called coffee anymore. When he finally recovered he shot a glare at Percival who had the newspaper in a death grip his arms shaking, as he no doubt fought to contain his laughter.

"So how was it?" Bedivere asked innocently. "It's one of my favorite drinks for stakeouts, and I've found that it really gets your magic flowing."

He looked at her skeptically, before taking another sip...with the same results. A small smile tugged at her lips, as she wondered how many she had tricked into taking a second sip. That quickly became astonishment as Hadrian glared defiantly at the sup, threw back his head and poured the cooled contents down his throat. "Are you insane!" She yelled, reaching for his glass and refilling it with water, before pushing hers and Percival's towards him. He didn't reach for them as his body shook, and his nose twitched. A minute passed and the shaking stopped, he opened his eyes, which glowed with ethereal green fire as he grinned. "You're right about how it gets you going."

She stared at him her mouth agape, before she laughed like a loon, hugging him tightly with one arm, the other ruffling his hair. "You're definitely a keeper." She smiled switching to a petting motion.

"Kids nowadays." Percival sighed as he peeked at their antics from around his newspaper. Flicking his finger at Hadrian he dispelled the glamour around his eyes lest they freak out the waitress. Lifting his hand to signal the waitress who came over with the bill, he departed the table to pay. Meanwhile Bedivere was pouring the contents of the two pots of coffee into a hip flask, humming merrily as she worked.

"Notice-me-not?" Hadrian asked raising a brow. There was no way that 120oz of coffee would fit into a 6oz flask without magic.

She nodded, before capping the lid on the flask and storing it in her pocket. "It's like one of those multicompartment trunks, it lets me carry around a variety of drinks for whenever the mood strikes me. Only downside is that because of all the separate dimensions stored within I can't store it in a dimensional gallery."

"How many drinks does it hold?" He asked. He'd never see a flask able to hold more than one thing, and the idea of having one was great.

She hummed to herself for a moment before finally saying, "I don't actually know anymore. I stopped counting after 10, not to mention the fact that they seem to be never ending. It creates fresh drinkable water, so one day I decided to see how much it could create, ended up filling a pool before I got bored and stopped."

Before he could say anything else Percival returned, and after leaving a generous tip for the waitress they left the table.

"So where to next?" Hadrian asked, bringing his hand to his mouth to cover a burp.

"Should we bring him to Dame Alia yet?" Bedivere said mischievously.

"Best to get it over with. The sooner that she clears him, the sooner that he can meet the Queen." Percival said, putting a hand on both their shoulders. The world disappeared in a flash of fire, and unlike last time where they reappeared almost instantaneously this time they were were traveling for several minutes. He saw the world flitting underneath him as Percival's flames transported them at breakneck speeds. He felt them collide with a solid wall of magic, a ward of some sort. He could feel tendrils of magic extending from the obstacle invasively scanning and reading their cores. After a few moments it retracted and the ward disappeared, and they landed hard in the middle of a courtyard.

"Welcome to the Order's Chief Medical Facility also known as Hell." Bedivere grimaced. "Dame Alia rules this little stretch of land with an iron fist."

"Stop scaring him." Percival chastised, suppressing a shudder as the smell of formaldehyde and other chemicals assaulted his nose. They walked forwards through a set of revolving doors and entered the building's atrium. A single large workstation was in the middle of the room hallways branching off on either side and two doors lay directly behind the desk. The walls were whitewashed, immaculate, and too clean.

"This place gives me the creeps." Hadrian said, his eyes darting back and forth. He took comfort in the familiar weight of his weapon, projecting a single dagger into his hand. He noticed even Bedivere on edge, legs spread wide, weight on the balls of her feet, coiled like a snake and ready to strike.

"Easy there." Percival said, moving towards the desk. "Out for lunch huh?"

"Isn't this desk supposed to be manned at all times?" Bedivere asked narrowing her eyes.

"Yes. It is." Percival said slowly. The air grew tense for a fleeting moment before he began to walk around the station and towards the doors. "Hadrian stay behind me, Bedivere take the rear."

They walked through the massive complex, an eerie feeling creeping down Hadrian's spine, the place was devoid of any life. The only sound seemed to come from their shoes, tapping against the tiled floor. Every hallways looked the same, stretching as far as he could see, every time they turned a corner the same sight greeted them.

"Is it just me or are we going in circles?" He asked.

"We're not." Percival replied, making another turn. "But someone has definitely been playing around with dimensions." On and on he led them, until they stopped in the middle of the hall, and he stared at a blank wall. "Bedivere." He ordered.

She moved to the wall, laying a hand on it, her face scrunched as she concentrated. Stepping back she answered. "You're right this is definitely one of hers. There's some sort of proximity ward to alert her, a compulsion for people to go away, a dozen or so traps that are aimed to stun, and oddly enough one ward that would cause Irritable Bowel Syndrome, but that one seems to be tied directly to a certain person."

"None of us I hope."

She checked once more, this time reaching into her pocket and putting on a pair of glasses. "Not as far as I can tell, but she does have several of those stunners set for you. Pray tell what did you do to deserve this?"

He shrugged his shoulders in ignorance, as he concentrated on the runic scheme that sealed the door away. "You need to bring the wards down while I break the dimensional barrier."

"What door?" Hadrian finally spoke up. Both turned to him suddenly realizing that he had no idea what they were talking about. Plunging his hand into his pocket Percival removed a small vial filled with what looked like red, blue, and green sand. "Ward Breaking 101. This sand reacts to the presence of magic in the visible spectrum.' He explained uncorking the bottle and throwing the sand into the area they were staring at. Rather than falling the sand stayed in place forming streamers of reds, blues, and greens.

Removing a pair of glasses from his pocket he handed it to Hadrian. "Put these on, you might learn something."

As soon as he donned the glasses his eyes were blinded by a multitude of colors. Screaming in pain, he shut his eyes, pulled off the glasses and began rubbing his eyes, praying for the flashing lights to stop. "Sorry about that." Percival apologized, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I forgot to tell you to open your eyes slowly. Seeing magic for the first time is like a blind man gaining the ability to see only to stare directly into the sun."

He tried once more, only to immediately close them again. He heard Percival sighing. "Well it seems your eyes are still too sensitive from your first exposure." The glasses were removed, before Percival gently opened each of his eyes and squeezed three drops of a clear liquid from a bottle with an eyedropper. "Ocular dampener. We use it for new recruits who are just sensitive to magic. Try the glasses again." He handed them back.

After putting them on, he waited several minutes before daring to risk his sight once more. Slowly opening his eyes this time he was greeted by a solid wall of white light, no where near as strong as before. "Best to get used to seeing magic as quickly as possible. The downfall of the potion is that it dulls all the magics making it much harder to gauge the strength of the wards." Staring deeper into the wall he found that it was not white but a mixture of colors, reds, greens and blues, all of different shades and intensities. "The different colors refer to different types of wards. While it can be broken into Reds, blues and greens as the most broad categories the different shades and intensities refer to the type as well as the strength of the ward. Thankfully magic is somewhat color coded for our convenience and no one has yet to create a ward that break from a certain spectrum. The glasses allow you to see not only the visible spectrum of magic but also into the higher and lower ranges. It's these ranges that you have to be cautious of because they can easily be missed and are almost always alert wards, compulsions, or nasty traps. Fortunately for us we have an easy way to temporarily disrupt wards making them easier to dismantle. With a wave of his hand the red, blue and green sand flew back into the vial which he pocketed once more.

Both of them pulled a small black pouch out of their pockets, and after dripping a drop of blood on the mouth, opened the pouches. Their hands disappeared into the depths of the sack before they removed them, black sand running out of their hands. "Crushed cold iron." Percival explained. "Watch what happens when it comes in contact with the wards." Nodding to Bedivere they both took a step back before flinging the iron sand at the door. The wards that once formed solid walls were riddled with holes as if a person had shredded them with a shotgun. No longer were they strong and resolute, but flickering as they attempted to maintain themselves. Working quickly two two of them were sending their own magics into the ward and instead of brute force overpowering them as most cursebreakers would attempt to do they started stabbing into it, creating more and more holes. The holes closed up as the ward attempted to repair itself but they were punching holes into it too fast for it heal. Finally there were too many for it to support itself and the entire scheme collapsed in on itself shattering any protections around it.

"Outer wards are gone." Bedivere said. "Just got to shatter the dimensional lock."

"Dimensional lock?" Hadrian asked.

"It seals up a space in its own pocket dimension like one of those multi-compartment trunks. It runs outside of its own time so that it's possible for a person to age differently in there. The charm is based off old fae magics from a time when they spirited people away to attend there feasts.

"Rip van Winkle?"

"Irving was one such person spirited away. Poor bastard was gone for 10 years." Percival grimaced. "Thankfully the fae have retreated into their sanctuaries and underhills. What we used to take down the outer wards was called the disruption method. Breaking into this dimension we're going to go for the brute force method." Snapping his fingers he conjured a granite wall with a small cut out at head height that he would be able to see out of. "Stay behind that, and be aware that there might be some sort of explosive response."

"Shouldn't you be behind the wall too then?" He asked. Any other response was cut off as both Percival and Bedivere let loose with their power. Oppressive and suffocatingly dense magic burst from their bodies, writhing around them like a hurricane. The two being in such close, their powers clashed against each other. Bedivere's cerulean and Percival's crimson aura began to merge forming a deep purple where the two met.

"Get behind the wall." Bedivere commanded, letting loose more of her power. Percival responded, raising his own. The deep purple began to spin itself, forming a lance like drill. He knew what was coming next, and scurried behind the wall, hunkering down and clapping his hands to his ears. Making sure that their charge was safe, they let loose their attack, the lance piercing the barrier and ripping a hole through it. a wave of magic burst exploded from the failing dimension pushing Bedivere and Percival back, and cracking the granite wall, he didn't even want to know what it would have done to him. Their magic receded back inside of them, a solid metal slab of a door materialized where their attack had struck. The entire thing had runes carved into it, a large sign posted at eye level.

"Ward Breaking 101 continued. If one person isn't strong enough to overcome a ward, two people combining their powers multiplies the total effect. Therefore it's much better to have two people striking with one attack then it is for two to be striking with two attacks. This is why in the old days there used to be entire covens working alongside armies to create devastating attacks. It's also one of the reasons why covens are outlawed in England. The Ministry would have no way of fighting a coven as their aurors aren't trained in group casting or tactics."

"Now we just need to enter." Bedivere quipped, slightly winded. Removing a vial from her pocket she took an experimental sniff before downing the potion. Steam shot from her ears, as the pepperup potion worked to restore her lost energy.

"That door?" He said nervously.

"That's the only door here." Bedivere pointed out.

"The one with the sign that says intruders will be violated, survivors consent to experimentation?"

"Yes that door."

"Just to clarify, we're going to go through the door with the warning, the one with the ominous smoke flowing from it, and the insane cackling coming from the other side."

"The one and only." Bedivere said gently pushing him to the side before she took several steps back. The door was thrown open, no that's an understatement, it was literally blown off its hinges as the rune strengthened metal crumpled under a single magically enhanced kick. "Knock knock." A voice cackled from the depths of the room. He had never seen a room so large, its size dwarfing that of Hogwart's Great Hall and the Ministry's Atrium. Thousands and thousands of items were scattered about the room. Wires and monitors dotted two of the walls that he could see, the third denoting the end of the room was somewhere over the horizon. There was veritable mountains of equipment just piled haphazardly, some teetering precariously waiting for a singly stimulus to create an avalanche.

"Space expansion charms?" Hadrian asked, to no one in particular as he stepped into the room. The next thing he knew he was pulled by his shirt and flying into the depths, a constant slithering almost like a snake accompanying him. His short jaunt ended with him unceremoniously dumped on his ass in the middle of a clearing. _What the hell?_ He wondered, running his hand along the ground. _Is this grass?_

He was brought out of his musings as all around the clearing a rustling was heard. Quick as he turned whatever was around him was faster. Materializing three of the sureflight runed knives in his left hand and a short sword in his right. Hearing the rustling once more he threw the sureflight knives, to no avail as whatever it was simply disappeared. The knives struck one of the mountains of junk, the final straw that broke the camel's back as an avalanche of items fell around him. It kicked up clouds of dust, that had him in a coughing fit. From the dust a blur charged him, spinning to knock him on his back with it's tail.

"Ooof" He wheezed crashing into another mountain of junk. "Bugger." He whispered diving forward with all his strength, narrowly avoiding a few pieces that crashed where he previously stood. Panting on the ground, he heard the rustling approaching. It took all the strength he had left to force himself into a sitting position. _Damn those Dursleys!_ He swore, malnourishment and beatings couldn't be healed in a single night no matter the potions that Bedivere dumped down his throat. His jaw dropped in horror as he saw the enemy staring right at him.

"You've got to be kidding me." He swore. "A lamia! Why the hell is there a lamia around!?" Lamia, a female monster especially fond of devouring children, the bottom half was that of a great serpent, emerald coils shifting underneath her as she moved. Above the waist was a beautiful woman her lavender hair gathered in a ponytail on the side, dull grey eyes stared at him from behind fashionable wireframe glasses. Her features would've been perfect if not for the large grey bags underneath her eyes that suggested she hadn't slept in days. _Hopefully she's not hungry._ He thought getting ready to conjure another sword the moment she lunged. The most surprising thing about the monster in front of him though was not the bags underneath her eyes, though that was surprising, it was the blue cashmere turtleneck that she wore underneath a white labcoat.

In the blink of an eye she was crouching in front of him, her eyes level with him, staring with a dare he say it, human intelligence. _This makes no sense_. He thought, no matter what book he read they all said that lamia were a violent and carnivorous race and one of the most dangerous creatures that came from Greece. It took only a moment for his to project a long sword into his hand, the tip of the blade resting between her breasts, a simple thrust was all that was needed to pierce her heart. Still she stared at him, ignoring the deadly steel poised to take her life. Her eyes looked him up and down before returning to stare into his eyes, before she smiled, sending shivers down his spine. _Is this what a rat feels like when cornered?_

"Harry Potter." She hissed. "Are you going to kill me?"

His arm trembled a bit. Was he going to kill her? He had planned on killing the Dursleys, but it would've been in self-defense. Could he kill in cold blood. Speaking of cold blood, was a lamia cold-blooded? _Where had that thought come from?_ He wondered, wondering what his mind drifted to when faced with overwhelming danger. 'She's a monster.' A nagging voice whispered in his mind. His arm stilled as he remembered Percival's memories. It was kill or be killed, and he refused to be her dinner.

She must've seen the conviction in his eyes because she began to chuckle darkly. "Little boy, thinks he's ready to face the big bad world." He felt something poking at his back, too late he realized that it was her tail ready to either crush his ribs or pierce his chest. "You've never killed anyone have you boy?"

He held her gaze defiantly, "Voldemort." He said lightly pushing the blade, drawing a line of blood.

She chuckled once more. "Like I said, you've never killed anybody."

Before he could retort two bursts of flame appeared to the side of the clearing. "Tch." She spat. Bedivere and Percival materialized looking perfectly at ease.

"Yo." Bedivere said, raising her hand in greeting, completely disregarding the S-class monster that was next to her. "So this is where you went off to."

"I was dragged here." He sniffed in response.

"Well it's good to see that you're not strapped down on a lab table." Percival commented, staring at the lamia in front of them.

"We were getting to that part." The lamia responded slithering backwards and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Hey Alia." Bedivere said, drawing everyone's gaze to her. "Since when were you a lamia?"

"I was bored and decided to see if I could make a potion that turned someone into a basilisk." Alia smirked. Her entire body lit up blinding them momentarily. When their sight recovered the lamia was gone, instead a woman stood there her legs clad in black pants and heels adorning her feet. She was a little shorter than Bedivere, though no less dangerous if the vibe she was giving off was anything to go by. "Though I only got this far before I ran out of test subjects."

"Hadrian, say hello to High Inquisitor Alia the Order's premier Potion Mistress and Chief Medical Officer. Alia, Hadrian." Bedivere introduced. He couldn't help but be unnerved by the looks that Alia was sending him, something between viewing him as a tool and viewing him as a test subject. Either way he wanted to do nothing more than bolt from the room as quickly as possible.

"Hmmm." She said approaching him, a dangerous glint in her serpentine eyes that rooted him to the spot. Pulling out a small pad and a pen she circled him like a predator, poking and prodding him with gusto. Every now and then she would stop jabbing him and write something down in her book. Finally after repeatedly poking him in the kidneys, something that he thought she was doing out of a sadistic glee, she stepped back, and reached into her pocket. Withdrawing a set of glasses with several lenses attached, she removed her old ones and donned the new set. Reminiscent of old fashioned magnifying glasses, she cycled through the various lenses, sometimes switching between them. Her eyes steadily drifted up towards his forehead, closing the distance between them until she was only inches away, then her drowsy expression was replaced by a cold hunger that made up his mind. He turned and ran from her as fast as his legs could carry him. He only made it a few feet, before Bedivere snagged the back of his shirt and prevented him from moving.

Hadrian looked back in horror, she was coming closer once more, a gleaming scalpel in hand. "Stop scaring him." Bedivere chastised.

"Tch." Alia said pocketing the scalpel. Percival was off to the side lightly chuckling at their antics, and unfortunately drew the ire of the CMO. Quick as a flash Alia had withdrawn a pipe from her pocket, loaded a dart, and with a whoosh of air let loose the projectile. As quick as she was, Percival was quicker, nimbly sidestepping the dart that would've buried itself in his neck, and neatly plucking it out of the air.

He shot her a glare, before his eyes began drooping and he stumbled. Meanwhile Alia's face lit up in expectation and happiness as she saw effects of her weapon. Out came another notepad as she began talking to herself. "Journal, November 3rd, 1985, Sedative: Nocturne's Embrace, Created to subdue S-Class creatures with minimum effort. Test Subject: Percival 'The Immortal'. Effects: Administration by injection into carotid failed. Skin contact with dart coated in sedative has shown to have minimal effects."

"Alia!" He growled a light emanating from his body, as he forcefully purged the poison from his system. Standing upright, his power breaking free from his constraints, its threatening power suffocating everyone in the room.

"Nocturne's Embrace, side effects may include increased anger." Alia observed, disregarding the danger that came with poking Percival with a foot long stick she had conjured.

"Alia," Percival started, taking deep breaths to prevent himself from lashing out. "May I ask what you are doing?"

"Observing the effects of Nocturne's Embrace. If I perfect the formula then I can use it to subdue creatures to experiment on. Now tell me do you feel any depression, or common symptoms of withdrawal now that the drug is no longer in your system?" She continued to circle and poke, and prod. From the face that Bedivere was making he was sure that she had been on the receiving end of her testing before.

"No."

She nodded to herself, "Good, it looks like I fixed the addiction aspect and violent withdrawal."

"Please don't tell me that you tested this out on humans."

"Of course not." She said, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him deeper into her lair. They had no choice but to follow, something about this place had both Bedivere and himself on edge, and the last thing that he wanted was to be caught by himself. He had a feeling that something was observing him, waiting for the perfect time to strike, and he had no plans on ending up being whatever it was' meal.

She led them to a massive menagerie of creatures varying in size from small rodents to a massive aquatic tank housing a creature that he could've sworn was extinct. "Was that a-"

"It's my pet shark." Alia said waving her hand dismissively, ignoring the fact that her pet 'shark' was in fact almost 20 meters long.

"-But that's a-" He tried.

"Shark." She stressed. "Unless you want to get closer to Mr. Toothy and attempt to disprove me."

"No thanks." He stammered."Mr. Toothy?" He silently asked Bedivere. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, grimacing as she looked at the 'shark'.

"Here we are." Alia exclaimed pointing to a wall filled with rodents. "Each column refers to a different variation of Nocturne's Embrace."

"Why are the insides of the first few columns painted red?" Bedivere asked.

"Complications with the formula, that's not paint."

"You don't mean." Bedivere started, only to stop as Alia nodded morosely, before pointing to another section.

"We'll always remember Kay, Minnie, and Morgan." She said solemnly.

"Why are they named after our brothers and sisters?" Bedivere asked narrowing her eyes, as she caught sight of the numerous roman numerals under each picture of the mouse.

"No reason at all." She responded innocently, moving to cover the wall with the rodents. "Now since none of you would ever step foot in my laboratory willingly, what can I do?"

"We need a full physical for Hadrian, as well as any potions necessary to counteract the damage done by his 'family'." He noticed the potent vitriol with which Bedivere spat the last word.

"Easy enough." Alia said, withdrawing several vials from her pockets. She noticed him staring at those same pockets, and couldn't help but laugh. "Fufufufu, my pockets are neverending, and will put whatever I'm thinking of into my hand every time I go to withdraw something. Sometimes I surprise myself with my genius."

"Is she insane?" He asked bluntly.

"She's been sniffing too many potion fumes." Bedivere sweatdropped.

"Now there's one thing that I'm a bit concerned about." Alia said writing something on a piece of note paper. Ripping it out of her book she slapped the makeshift talisman onto his chest. "Order!"

Electricity arced from the talisman shooting through his body, instantly downing him as he squealed in pain. "Now…" She said looming over him with a sadistic smile and giggle. "You won't be getting away form me spirit."

Before she could take another step Bedivere and Percival had each grabbed one of her arms and hauled her away.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Bedivere screamed, sweeping her sister and planting her weight on the small of her back.

"What's it look like?" Alia asked, not even bothering to throw her sister's weight off her, instead opting to simply crawl towards her target. "You won't deny me this chance!" She said.

"Was she always this stubborn?" Percival asked, firing off a sticking charm. "Alia!" He snapped, stopping all of their struggles, quieting everyone except for Hadrian who was still twitching where he went down. "Please explain to me in nice simple words what the hell you think you're doing."

"Fine." She huffed, sitting up easily throwing Bedivere's weight off her and ignoring the sticking charm that should've stopped her movements. "Now I'll say it so simply that even Bedivere couldn't screw it up." She began, ignoring the protests her fellow Dame made. "When the Horcrux matter was brought up by during the meeting, I realized that I had only a bit of experience in dealing with such objects, since they are normally seen more in our African Branches. Anyways, I quickly requisitioned all their files and equipment, and have since been playing around with several horcruxes they so generously let me borrow."

"So why are you playing around with soul magics when there are other people more experienced and better trained to deal with these problems?"

"I won't get any better unless I practice." She said simply. "Anyways time moved in 24:1 compression here so I've got plenty of practice in."

"Oh?" Percival exclaimed, cocking a brow in amusement. "And what did Alia, self proclaimed genius discover?"

She smirked in triumph, "I successfully removed removed the encroaching soul from the object, transferred it into a simple vessel and managed to extract any information that it may have contained."

"Really?" Bedivere said perking up, if they managed to get ahold of one of Voldemort's horcruxes her job of hunting them down would be much easier.

Alia nodded her head. "Really, behold the fruits of my labor." With an extravagant flourish of her hand she ripped open a dimensional tear and removed a stuffed teddy bear. "This is the former Dark Lady Astarte."

"Release me!" The teddy bear screamed in defiance. "I'll have your entire family dragged before you, the flesh flayed from their bones. Their screams, like music to my ears, will pierce the silence, tortures like never before known will be inflicted upon them. I will make sure to draw out their suffering for as long as possible, until I finally feast on their souls!"

"You know this would be a lot scarier if you weren't a teddy bear." Bedivere said.

"Foolish creature, my power is great enough to not be hindered by this measly form!" Astarte spat. She thrust forth her hand the bear's face turning into a cruel smirk. Only for nothing to happen, and then she once again spat defamations at them, cursing everything from their families, to questioning their heritage and insinuating that their parents must've had sex with farm animals.

"Enough." Alia said, stabbing a scalpel into the teddy bear's eye. "Keep it up and I'll turn you inside out." Throwing the bear behind her a portal opened up to swallow the Dark Lady.

"You think that Hadrian has one of these horcruxes inside him?" Bedivere asked.

"He's got something in him alright." Alia explained. "If he didn't that talisman wouldn't have had any effect."

"Damn." Bedivere hissed, a sentiment shared by everyone else in the room. Meanwhile Hadrian continued to twitch ever so slightly on the floor, ignorant of what was being discussed.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Published: 1-2-2016

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Author's Note: First off I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter as well as stating that this isn't my best. However after reviewing the poll data I've decided to do a timeskip so expect one more 'prequel' chapter followed by Harry going to Diagon Alley to pick up his supplies. I also want to wish everyone a Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Years. Also I need reviews, as my other story Death in Halkeginia has generated much more interest than this has. Lastly I'd like to send a shout out to Writer With Bad Grammar T-T whose story Harry Potter the Youngest Prodigy is being edited by yours truly. Give it a read, you never know.

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"Well the journey of a thousand miles, begins with taking a single step." Percival sighed. "What do you need to get that thing out of him?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Bedivere exclaimed, stopping her sister, before she began to last things that were entirely unnecessary and only for her benefit. "We're not even sure that it is a Horcrux, for all we know it could be some partial form of possession. As much as I want to believe that Hadrian is naturally this amazing with a full mindscape and abilities in legilimency, I find it easier to believe that he had some sort of exposure and that's how he gained his skills."

"And if he's all natural?" Percival asked.

"Then that boy's been blessed by Fortuna." Bedivere deadpanned. "I remember the training I had to go through in order to master my skills, and even with my natural empathy to aid in legilimency it was tough."

"We're not here to discuss how hard it was for you to not turn your target's mind to goop, but whether or not we're dealing with the absolute worst form of soul magics." Percival said, diverting the conversation before it escalated to blows. "Now Alia, would you mind testing for it?"

She nodded, grabbing Hadrian and slinging him over her shoulder with practiced ease. "Determining if he's a horcrux or not shouldn't take very long, the problem is on how to extract it from a still living vessel."

"What's wrong with the process you used on the other Horcruxes?" He asked, following after her.

Shaking her head she explained, "With all those methods there was a chance of me destroying the vessel, a slim, but still present chance, now unless you want me to try those method it'll take me some time to figure out how to safely extract." She centered him on a large steel table and began strapping him down with thick leather bands inlaid with silver runes.

"Let's not." Bedivere said. "And what's with the autopsy table?" She got an airy smile in return that irked her. The table, if one could call the metal monstrosity that dozens of runes carved into it. Some of those seals she easily recognized, allowing the table to rise and fall, tilt forwards and back, all while defying gravity as it floated, around. On one end, by Hadrian's feet there was a large sink, the faucet and knobs brushed silver and inscribed with runes that allowed it to conjure fresh, clean, and sterile water.

Touching one of the runes the table tilted 45 degrees, and she maneuvered a large light in front of him.

"I just realized something." Percival said off to the side and examining several of her notebooks and a wall filled with diagrams of the human body. "Where's the rest of the staff? There should've been a hundred or so people here, so why is it that we are the only ones that I'm detecting are alive?"

For a moment Alia froze mid-tinkering, suddenly looking very nervous. She recovered though, and smoothly said, "they're taking a break right now."

"Huh." Percival grunted, picking up a modified gas mask. Moving over he picked up several glass pellets, no larger than a marble, and examined them under his mage sight. _It's hollow and enchanted with an expansion charm?_ He wondered what exactly Alia was experimenting with.

Putting on the gas mask and making sure that it fit snugly, he threw one of the pellets towards the CMO. Her eyes widening comically, she made a mad dash for the marble, diving for it, and catching it a foot before it impacted with the floor. "ARE YOU INSANE?"

He tilted his head, a smug smile hidden behind the mask. "What's with the marble?" Bedivere asked.

Alia shot her an annoyed look. "This is not just a marble! This is the solution to dealing with entrenched enemies. Each of these marbles contain enough aerosolized draught of living death to flood a small building. What's more is that they required a specially concocted antidote, as the standard Wiggenweld Potion will react horribly with it."

"Why don't we have these as standard issue?" Bedivere wondered, her mind already devising a dozen scenarios where these could be used to suppress targets for interrogation.

"I just finished testing them a few hours ago, and was planning on bringing them up during the next staff meeting."

Percival groaned knowing exactly what she had done. "Where are they, and where's the antidote?"

"I have to make it." Alia said, finishing her preparations by drawing a circle around Hadrian to contain any spirits. For good measure she made a second circle out of purified salt and a third with cold iron. "But don't worry, I'll have my colleagues up and about within a month." _I think._ She thought, refusing to say anything as that would mean getting her personal budget slashed.

"See that you do." Percival said, going over her circle with the intensity of a fine tooth comb, they couldn't afford to have any spirits escaping to wreak havoc upon the world. "So how does one go about detecting whether or not the target is a horcrux?"

"Detection spells normally reveal nothing as the person who creates them normally go to great lengths to hide them. Right, since if anything Hadrian is an accidental Horcrux he lacks any sort of basic defense against detection spells, so it's a simple matter." In rapid succession she fired off dozens of detection spells working her way from the most basic to the more esoteric to finally spells older than some civilizations. All the while a piece of paper and an enchanted pen were hovering closely, scribbling her findings down. When she finally finished she stepped back and snatched the paper out of the air, a frown marring her face. "This is interesting."

She handed the paper off to Percival, she lowered it so that Bedivere could read it as well.

 **Subject: Hadrian James Potter**

 **Current Physical Ailments: False Ribs R8,R9,R10 Cracked (Healing), True Ribs L1, L2, L3, L4 Cracked (Healing), Malnourishment, Brittle bones (Early Onset Osteoporosis Possible), Bruised kidneys, Multiple abrasions and contusions.**

 **Current Magical Ability: Unhindered.**

 **Detection of Targeted Horcrux: Negative**

 **Error! Error! Error! Unknown Soul magics detected within subject.**

 **Elemental Affinity: Void**

 **Origin: Creation and Disintegration**

 **Natural Talents: Metamorphmagus, Natural Occlumency, Natural Legilimency**

"Interesting alright." Bedivere hummed. "Though nothing too out of the ordinary besides this unknown soul magic."

"I think that might actually be residue from being hit by a killing curse." Alia said, moving towards one of her workstations.

"I'm more interested in his dual origin." Percival said. "Such a thing is rare in the world. Disintegration is pretty self-explanatory, but this creation aspect is something I've never seen or heard of before."

"It probably has something to do with his gradation air/conjuration ability." Bedivere explained. "I think Ivaldi have something similar in which he can create perfect unenchanted weapons with little to no cost of power. That ability bypasses all natural laws of rejection making it so that his weapons never naturally degrade unlike the standard conjuration used by powerful witches and wizards. Of course with his affinity being Earth, he's limited to weapons that have to be manually enchanted at a later date."

"Such a simple but powerful and versatile ability." Alia said her eyes never straying from her station. "If his projections aren't subject to degradation and he's not limited to simply weapons, the boy could someday become a one man army."

"Explain." Percival said.

"Simple if you don't limit yourself to standard thinking really. If he gains the ability to project complex constructs he could create entire squadrons of armored suits, from there by infusing them with the elemental void he creates simple void golems to carry out his orders. While they'd be dumb as rocks and unable to carry out complex commands, simply ordering them to go into a building and kill everything inside would be child's play. If he evolves to the point where he can quite literally project them with enchanted weaponry or their suits are actually made of mithril rather than steel he'd be a wizards/witches worst nightmare. Eventually he'd be able to fight S-class monsters alone with his constructs." She theorized. "Furthermore if I had this ability I would strengthen my ability to command multiple golems, and reactivating/deactivating them at will. Then I would plant them as sleeper agents in various cities around the world! With a hidden army in every major cities I'd eventually demand the unconditional surrender of the world and ascend to my position of GOD EMPRESS!" She began cackling madly delusions of grandeur and future conquests playing in her mind.

"This is why you're not allowed to practice medicine!" Percival chastised Bedivere. "She wasn't this bad before she tried one of your concoctions!"

"Ahem!" Alia coughed snapping out of it as she regained her 'sanity.' "Besides the ability to create and command void golems his ability to create weapons and other constructs could be considered under the category of Anti-Army. If he simply projects thousands of blades then banishes them towards the target nothing would survive the barrage of ensorcelled steel."

"Such an attack, while lacking the pure map changing destruction of one of our Forbidden Curses is much more flexible. Training wise I would focus on weapon imbuements, reinforcement and runes. I would also show him exactly what happens when you inscribe a weapon with a certain property then channel so much power through it in order to forcibly break or detonate it. It might give him some ideas." Leaving her station, wielding a crystal rod about a foot and half long, she began slowly running it up and down his body.

"What are you doing?" Percival asked.

"Analyzing the residue left from the killing curse. As you know the killing curse does exactly what the name entails, but it also happens to destroy and magic of the target making it impossible to get an accurate reading about the spells arithmetic construction. So far we've discovered that the spell seems to use variations of base 7 raised to a certain power as the main thrust of its power. Because of its use of 7 it manages to punch through all magical barriers but is stopped by solid defenses like marble conjurations or mithril armor. In fact the only shields that I'm sure would be capable of blocking a killing curse would be a runic shield powered by a leyline, and possibly a fully powered _Aegis_."

"Of course the _Aegis_ is only theoretical as I haven't found a recruit willing to hold it whilst I repeatedly throw AKs there way."

"It probably has to do with the fact that you die if you get hit." Bedivere deadpanned.

"Ummm. No. I just haven't found someone strong enough to maintain _Aegis_ for any reasonable length of time. If I find someone then there cooperation is already ensured."

"How?" Percival asked. She shot him a look that either said, 'Do you really want to know?' or 'Do you really think I'm stupid enough to tell you my plans so that you can make contingencies.' "Never mind." He sighed.

"Anyways what's prognosis Doc?"

She bit her lip, looking a bit sheepish, a complete 180 from her normally boisterous and arrogant attitude. "I don't know. I've never seen a case like this and there's no records of it ever happening before. The physical injuries he sustained will be easy enough to heal and they'll clear up by tomorrow after some potions and spells. What worries me is that unknown soul magic, I have no idea how it might effect him. He could be perfectly fine, or keel over in a minute."

 _Damn._ Percival thought, rubbing his temples. "So what do we do?"

"I guess leaving him to me for extended study followed by a thorough vivisection isn't on the table."

"Wasn't even an option." Bedivere said.

"Then the next best thing is for me to continually monitor him in order to catch anything as soon as possible."

"You're going to leave your lab?" "You're going out in the sun?" Percival and Bedivere exclaimed in surprise.

She glared at them both, "Before I was the CMO I was a field agent remember. And what the hell do you think I am? A vampire?"

"You certainly could pass for one with your pale, sickly complexion, the dark bags under your eyes and ruby lips. Not to mention the last time you stepped out in the light you immediately went back inside, swore vengeance against the sun and then began devising ways to plunge the world into eternal darkness."

She ran a hand down her face. "One I am not a vampire, I am naturally pale and a few potions will easily fix my sickly complexion. You'd look like this too if you've been awake for 5 days straight with nothing but coffee and pepper-up for company. Secondly, that time you dragged me out in the light was also the day after we both became Inquisitors and I was hung over."

"Please as if I'd ever look like you do know." Bedivere arrogantly said, throwing her silver hair over her shoulder.

"We can't all be veela." She replied woodenly. "Though now I'm regretting not experimenting more on you when we were children and you were slower than I was."

"Ladies, please." Percival said raising his hand, silencing any retorts Bedivere may have planned. "I'm sorry I forgot you were once a field agent, but in my defense with the amount of Agents that we have constantly being updated my mind sometimes slips."

"May I suggest a wit sharpening potion?" Alia asked. "Things like this could've been treated early on if you had actually come in for your check-ups."

"So you could poke, prod, and medicate me like you just did to Hadrian? No thanks." He grumbled. "By the way, should we be waking him up now?"

"I think so. He's probably going to be pretty pissed that you hit him with the magical equivalent of a taser." Bedivere mused.

"Woooo." Alia mocked. "Like a 4 year old is scary. What's he going to do kick me in the shin while crying?"

"More like conjure a knife and stab you a few times." Percival said remembering the daggers that pierced him the day before.

"In his defense, he thought you were his abusive uncle ready to inflict harm upon him once more. And you would've been fine even if I did nothing to help you."

"He lacks that killer instinct right now." Alia said. "Besides it's not like he could do enough damage that I wouldn't eventually be able to heal."

"He'll eventually need that instinct, especially in Inquisitoria. On three?" Aiming her finger at Hadrian's torso, Alia joined her at her side and aimed towards his face. "1...2...3...Surge!" "Surge!"

The two called out, as a more powerful form of the standard reenervate shot from their outstretched fingers, slamming into him. Current shot through his body, as his adrenal glands shot into overdrive dumping a large amount of epinephrine into his system. He woke up instantaneously screaming bloody murder. "What the bloody hell just hit me?"

"Surge spell. It's a combat revitalizer that helps rouse fallen comrades and gets them back into the fight quickly. A standard reenervate wouldn't have cut it after Alia tased you."

"She tased me?" He asked, closing his mouth, for some reason he couldn't keep it close. "What's that mean?"

"It means she shot a small lightning spell into you that knocked you out." Percival said, remembering the boy had limited exposure to Mundanes and their weapons. Pulling out a handkerchief he handed it to the boy. "You're drooling a bit."

Taking the white linen cloth and cleaning himself. "Is this normal?" His tongue felt funny as well.

"Well to be perfectly honest, we normally don't care when we slap these on people. After they wake up interrogation normally begins and your comfort isn't really a priority. But I'm happy to say that I haven't seen anyone suffer from any major long-term side-effects." Bedivere said, discounting the occasional twitch as nothing more than a physical quirk of their. Holding one out, she handed it over to Hadrian to inspect.

"Hmmm. Interesting." He said, turning the paper over repeatedly. "Are these more of your runes? Or are these something else?"

"It's an Eastern script, the exact nature I'm not too sure of since it's not my specialty." Bedivere explained.

"How do I activate it?"

"Well with most of these you need to affix it to a target while channeling a bit of magic into it. Then once that's done you say Order to activate the effect. These talismans are written spells, traps if you would prefer, capable of being unleashed by even the simplest novice." Percival said.

He nodded to himself thoughtfully, and in the blink of an eye disappeared. The next thing they heard was him screaming out, "Order!" The talisman firmly attached to the back of Alia's labcoat.

Instead of falling down and yelping in pain, a dull thud was heard as something hit the ground. Kicking it none too gently he yipped in pain, clutching his foot. In place of the CMO was a large log with a smiley face drawn into it, the labcoat firmly attached to it.

"What-"

"the-"

"Hell-?"

The three of them asked, tilting their head a bit to the side as they looked at the log. "Why is there a log in place of her?" Percival asked, feeling a headache coming on.

"I don't know." Bedivere said slowly. "And before you ask no this isn't an Inquisitoria thing."

"Clearly she's been inhaling too many potion fumes." Harry said.

"Nin-nin-nin." They heard, and looked up towards the ceiling. There suspended 30 feet into the air was Alia her feet firmly attached to the ceiling. "Do not question the almighty log." She informed.

"Serious question. Are there any normal people in this Organization? Cause you three aren't exactly what I'd call poster material."

"Normal is overrated." Alia said, continuing to give gravity the finger as she walked across the ceiling to a wall which she then proceeded to walk down. "Nice try kid, but you're 50 years too early to hit me with that."

"Stop!" Percival commanded, lightly flaring his aura, still it was strong enough to silence any protest that either side might've had. "Cease this foolishness. Alia, get ready to move out in 10 minutes. Bedivere bite your tongue and I expect our Headquarters to still be standing and in one piece after whatever retaliation you do is complete. Hadrian-" He paused and tiredly wiped a hand down his face. "Please get rid of those knives you have behind your back."

Grinning sheepishly, the blades clattered against the ground, as he discreetly nudged them to the side.

"Now, as Hadrian has no permanent damage and whatever he's suffered physically is healing, I'd like to take a look at you mindscape one more time to determine your mental health. After that depending on the time I'll give you a brief overview of our Organization that way you won't be ignorant in front of the Queen when you meet her."

"The Queen? I thought that Magical Britain was ruled by the Ministry of Magic." Hadrian said.

Percival's head dropped and shook as he felt the headache firmly taking root. "Pureblood Propaganda." He began. "The Ministry doesn't want the people to know that they are nothing more than a member of the cabinet of government and as such are still under the direct command of the Prime Minister. In addition to this there's the Royal position of Court Wizard who acts as the Monarchy's representative. If the Queen were to issue a Royal Decree the Ministry of Magic would have no choice but to obey lest they be called out and branded as traitors to the Crown."

Bedivere snorted and Alia laughed from wherever she was. "Good luck getting them to agree to that. Bagnold's not a bad Minister, but even she won't agree to following the commands of the Muggle Government. Not to mention the interference from Dumbledore nor the blatant corruption that's currently going on. Death Eaters are buying their way out of Azkaban and no one is willing to do anything about it."

"Really how? I mean they were caught in the middle of another pureblood's house dressed in Death Eather regalia." Hadrian said.

"They're claiming that they were under the imperius, and greasing any palms that need to be greased." Bedivere said grimly. "Don't worry though, we know who's bribing who and are creating files on them. By the time we're ready to move those cases will be airtight and the only thing that will be coming to them is a one way trip through the Veil."

"Many of them are also getting reduced sentences as Dumbledore is speaking in favor of them, saying how they can be rehabilitated to once again act in the greater good of the community." Percival spat.

"Still say that you let me capture them. I could always use a few more test subjects, and by the time I'm done with them you wouldn't even be able to get an identity from the blood samples. It wouldn't even be that hard. Just give me the green light and my team and I could extract them without alerting anyone until it's too late." Alia said returning with a large wheeled trunk. "I'm set."

"Ok. Now Hadrian I need you to let me in." Percival said, kneeling in front of the boy, and staring into his eyes. "Legilimens."

Entering his mindscape, the first thing he saw was a wall of swords, their points jutting out ready to pierce any probe that threw themselves against the defenses. Slowly but surely the wall began to fall, but he waited several more moments after the last sword fell so that any residual traps could be dispelled. Then a door appeared, a simple thing, and touching the handle he felt a hooking sensation in the back of his navel.

Gritting his teeth as the portkey swirled him in nauseating circles to his destination, he barely managed to land on his feet.

"Welcome. To my World." Looking up he saw Hadrian seated on a black iron throne in the middle of a barren battlefield. He glanced over the burial mounds, noting the different types of swords and weapons that served as grave markers. The acrid smell that he had come to associate death death with. A small part of him wondered how a boy like Hadrian had managed to recreate the smell so well, but it was smothered as he searched for any of the more common signs of mental damage. If there were any cracks or blurriness in the boy's mind he would help fix them, but to his astonishment there were none. Rather than be amazed he was instantly wary, something wasn't right in the boy's mind.

Going to one of the nearest swords he pulled it free from the mound, unaware of the small smirk that Hadrian's avatar was wearing. The sharp shock was his first warning, and it was only due to instincts and reflexes honed over decades of conflict that he managed to release his grip on the handle. Waves of pain and anger, grief and humiliation shot through his mind, forcing him to clamp down on his own barriers. What was one second in the real world was ages in the mind, but fortunately for him he only got a taste of the memory.

Forcibly ejected from Hadrian's mind he sank to a knee, his breathing labored. "I'm fine." He groaned, waving Bedivere's help away. "Just not as spry as I used to be."

"What happened?" She asked, conjuring a small cup and filling it with water.

"His mind. It isn't like other children who went through trauma. There are none of the tell tale signs of child abuse. He has no fear, no anxiety, his mind has sealed off all those memories. When I tried to access the memory I was almost overwhelmed. Seeing it makes me really regret not laying a worse curse on those Dursleys."

"So what do we do? It can't exactly be healthy to have parts of your mind sealed off." Bedivere asked.

"This is beyond you and me. Neither one of us trained to deal with mental trauma."

"Selene?" Alia asked, shivering.

"Selene." Percival nodded, before placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry about it right now Hadrian, Selene's a professional who's helped sort out hundreds of people. The good thing is that you're not the host of a soul parasite, and won't have it affect your emotions."

"Bad news is your cracked worse than a dropped egged." Alia sing-songed. "Don't worry though normalcy is overrated. In fact it's because of an alien common sense that I've made my greatest creations."

"Being compared to you doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." He snarked, causing Bedivere to laugh. She pouted, as Percival mumbled about annoying children.

"So now that Hadrian's physical is done, the physical damage is mending and the mental trauma is best left to professionals, what's next?"

"Now we give him a brief overview of the Order, from our founding to current times, touching upon key events. Then a good meal and finally we present him to the Queen where he will need to make a choice." Percival said.

"What choice?" Hadrian asked.

"Whether you want to join us or not. We rescued you from your relatives' house not only out of a desire to induct you but also because we wouldn't allow a child to be harmed. Ultimately you can choose to join with us and work to right the evils of the world or you can turn us down and go about your own."

"It's not really a choice is it?" Hadrian countered. "I mean I have no money, no paperwork, and no education.

"Well when you put it like that, yeah." Percival said, looking at his watch. "You said that the compression is 24:1, right?"

"Yup, it's as compressed as I could get it and I didn't want to find out what happens when your trigger a compression field within another compression field. Right now 24 hours passes for every 1 hour of real time, which means that instead of 8,760 hours a year we have 210,240 except for leap years."

"I've never heard of magic being able to compress time like that. The only magics I know of that can affect time are time-turners and at maximum you can travel 5 hours back without seriously harming the user or time itself."

"Let's just say that our Order and Magic have a very good relationship and that we know things that completely disregard some of those so called laws." Bedivere smiled conspiratorially.

"Anyways let's begin with who we are and what we stand for." Perival said conjuring comfy recliners for them all with a casual wave of his hand. "Sit. This might take a while, however before we begin I ask that you holdall questions until the end. Now who would like to begin?"

"I might as well start." Alia said snapping her fingers drowning out all the light until only a circle around her was illuminated. She pushed up her glasses, her eyes glinting in the near darkness, as a chill set in around them.

"Keep the theatrics to a minimum. This is serious business and should be handled with proper decorum." Percival sighed.

"Shut up. It's called setting the atmosphere." Alia countered, clearing her throat. "The exact date of our founding is unknown, however legends passed down from our historians lead us to believe that the very moment the first magic user came into being, so did the first knight. Of course they weren't called that back then. First written records of the Order appeared during the time of Ancient Mesopotamia, specifically around the time of Gilgamesh."

"From there a part of us moved to Ancient Egypt to Ancient Israel to the Empires of Greece and then to Rome. Over and over groups of us have moved on with the founding of every great civilization. At least in the Western World. One of the greatest mysteries of our Order is how we seemed to be around the world all at the same time while having no knowledge of each other. The first contact that our Western Divisions had with our Eastern Brethren happened during the Roman Empire, and let me tell you that was the surprise of the century."

"Same thing happened when we met our counterparts in Africa, and the Americas. There were many cultural and procedural differences between our different factions, and at one point East and West ended up trading blows with each other. However neither side was able to kill the other."

Alia paused, seeing the disbelief on his face. "I mean that. No matter what the two sides did neither side was able to even so much as bruise the other. It was as if some external force was preventing us from harming each other. Funnily enough this lead to one of our most common sayings, "Magic guides my hand."

"It was the belief of the two Leaders that Magic itself was preventing us from doing direct harm to one another, and so East and West stayed separated for hundreds of years, though they maintained close ties with one another. It wasn't until the early 1900s that both sides joined together as one, thus uniting our Order under one leader."

"Let's focus on Britain, Alia. He doesn't need to know about the world yet." Percival said.

"I'll take over." Bedivere interjected. "The first time our Order came to these Isles was in 43 AD which marked the beginning of the Roman Invasions. After pushing the natives back and establishing what would be known as Hadrian's Wall, our own troops began marching deeper and deeper into Britain to make contact with the local shamans. For the most part agreements were made with tribes who pledged to support us and for us to support them. Several times our emissaries were ambushed and we were forced to take a hard stance against these marauding tribes. When Rome began declining the vast majority of the Order's forces went back to Italy to stop the power of the Empire from falling into the hands of Magic users, while those that stayed behind in Britain intermarried with the tribes. Even though their strength was reduced the Order still maintained a powerful presence in the Isles, and was key in the founding of Camelot as well as the precursor to the Arthurian Knights."

"The arrival of Merlin marked the turning point in the British Chapter's history, as we came out into the open about the existence of magic. For a time Mundane and Magical lived in peace, the peace enforced by the mail backed gauntlet of the Order who prevented any Dark Lord's and Ladies from gaining power, and the Arthurian Knights who protected the common people. Swords such as Excalibur, Galatine, Arondight, Secace, and Clarent were gifts from the Order to the Arthurian Knights. We in return normally gained second and third born sons of nobles who were destined for uneventful lives and were unlikely to inherit much, as well as the Isle of Avalon where we built our Fortress."

"It was at this time that a prophet came to the Order and we got our first clue to why we existed. She had been in a deep trance when she had been told to make her way to our Fortress and deliver this message. 'They shall be my finest warriors; those who devote themselves to my will. Like Prometheus I shall mould them from clay, and in spellfire harden them. Will of iron, body of steel. Clad in stoutest earth they shall be armed with the mightiest of weapons. Girded by my might they shall be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness shall blight them. They, instruments of my will shall know not defeat. The Aegis to break Light and Dark, immortal judges and defenders of my people. Abandon your fears, and embrace my gift.'" Percival finished.

"So what's the mission of the Order?" Hadrian interrupted, his voice shattering the illusion around them and returning the light to the room.

"Oh darn." Alia pouted, shooting him a glare. "You were supposed to hold all questions until the end."

"I think it's important for him to know about what we do before we explain why we want him." Bedivere said. "You know no secrets and all that."

Percival and Alia turned to her with deadpanned looks. "No secrets? Really, this coming from you?"

Bedivere shrugged, before answering Hadrian. "The Order has been protecting magic and users since Babylon. Our job is to stop them from unleashing the apocalypse with their experiments and also to prevent Mundanes from declaring war and killing all Magicals. That's what we do in simplest terms, but our methods vary. Secondary objectives include preventing Dark Lord's and Ladies from gaining complete control of the world, the protection of all sentient magicals regardless of race, and more recently aiding Mundane governments in controlling the Magical Populations if they get out of hand."

"Like the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"Yes. When we said we were taking you to see the Queen of England, it's to deal with the Ministry of Magic and how they're failing their duties. It would be an understatement to say that she's unhappy. The Prime Minister originally wanted to have us begin an Inquisition right away but the Queen has decided to give them an ultimatum of 6 years to shape up and fix their problems before she forcibly cleans house."

"I think that's enough history for now." Bedivere said, conjuring a set of glasses and pulling out her flask. Filling three with water, she filled the fourth with a crimson liquid and handed it to Alia. "He'll have a chance to get the full history sometime in the future."

"Is this supposed to be a joke?" The CMO asked, a minor twitch developing as she stared at the glass in her hand.

"It's fruit juice." Bedivere answered.

"So it's not blood?"

"No."

"Then drink it."

"I prefer water."

"Alia. Just drink it." Percival commanded, ignoring the look of betrayal and her swearing vengeance. As if he'd be stupid enough to allow her to partake in his medical procedures.

"Are things always like this?" Hadrian asked.

"Unfortunately once you reach a certain rank you tend to have a lot of downtime when compared to those under you. For the three of us of whom 2 who hold the rank of High Inquisitor and myself who oversees operations, paperwork tends to be the most we do. In our free time we train but we can't do that here because the space wasn't made to handle the sort of power we can accidentally emit. Hence why we're sitting down and drinking."

"Why don't we just leave?" Hadrian asked.

"Unfortunately we can't." Alia spoke up. "When I designed this room and the temporal spells the minimum time that it can be activated for is 12 hours."

"So we'll leave tomorrow?"

She shook her head sheepishly. "12 hours in real time, so get comfy."

"You mean we're stuck in here for 12 days?" He exclaimed.

"Yup, it's a perfect time for us to get to know one another better." Bedivere grinned.

At that moment both Percival and Hadrian felt a headache coming on as they stared in disbelief at the bubbly blonde.


End file.
